


Pretend Like You're Normal

by WorldsFool



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Reader-Insert With PLOT!, Android-Reader, Angst, But A Good Burn, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Identity Issues, It's Gonna Be A Long Time Before You Remember Anything, Like, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Your Normal Reader-Insert, Omnic-Reader, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Sexually Confused Reader, Slow Burn, Temporary Amnesia, Too Much Icy-Hot Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10476681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldsFool/pseuds/WorldsFool
Summary: You wake up with no prior memory of who you are or where you came from. All you know is that you’re not human and staring down some Russians with guns claiming that you’re the enemy. Confused as all ‘get out’ and with no idea what’s going on, you play along with their demands and soon enough get involved with an organization bent on helping the world.Sometimes memories just need a little help getting out and Overwatch seems to be the best at helping people; whether they be human or not.





	1. Day Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> I must first give a shout-out to Nopersdopers for her inspiration with her work 'Slow down bruh.' If you haven't read it I would encourage you to do it. Along with Faranae and her story 'Watch Your Step,' another Reader-Insert that feeds my muse. The both of you are amazing and I hope you enjoy what your powers combined have created. (It's Captain Planet)
> 
> I am normally very on and thorough with mistakes or misspelled words. I have no beta so, if you see an error please let me know in a comment and I will correct it as soon as I can.
> 
> Enjoy.

"I've never seen anything like it." 

You curl tighter into your little ball with a slumbering sigh. It was either too late or too early for you to be up yet and although you will your lucid brain to ignore the murmurs and muffles you know, it won't be too long before the commotion forces you up. Whatever was on TV was too loud and a little stitch in your side informs you of having rolled over the remote in your sleep. You vaguely remember drifting off to some horror flick and judging by the sounds, something similar must be playing.

"What the heck is it? What's it doing in a place like this?" A curious protagonist or expendable scientists/adventurer too curious for his own good. Chances were whatever anomaly they were looking at was going to either kill or eat them if approached too closely.

"Need to tell the Commander.” Military based, alien ship, Independence Day? Sounded more like Alien. “No, don't touch it!" And there is the scene were the creature comes to life and devours it's pray. Your lips curl as your dream takes a B horror turn.

Something strokes the corner of your cheek and tickles your eyes into forcefully keeping shut. Figures, just when you were about to drift back off. The cats were probably wanting out. The dogs were probably wanting food. Your siblings were poking and prodding and your parents were trying to remind you that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Was it asking for too much to want to sleep in? You worked hard yesterday, didn't you? You give a groan and move to turn over in bed, expressing your complaint in a slur.

"Don wanna-"A highly feminine scream, instantly brings you to attention.

Lurching up and opening your eyes you're startled, not to see your TV but two dark figures standing above you. Definitely not family and definitely not someone you knew. You can't help but back-peddle away to put as much space between you as possible. Who the hell where they? What were they doing in your house? Your back makes contact with something firm, while you half expected to fall off the bed you reach to feel for what had stopped you. While not wanting to take your attention off the intruders you quickly sneak a peek over your shoulder.

It's a wall...A metal wall that doesn't belong to your bedroom, neither does the floor for that matter. The walls stretch too far, the ceiling is too high. Stone clashes with steel panels, loose wires and chain netting hang from open and hole-punched vents above. There are etches in the walls, lining a corridor. Steel rails jut out from the floor and covered in rust. Where the hell are you?

Tuft of snow sit underneath opened holes in the infrastructure, sunlight peers through the wires and am outside breeze sweeps dirt and flurries across the hall of your location. Your labored breathing gives way to condensation and frost weaves decal to any bare speck of floor, not already covered in debris. Through the panic labor of your breathing there is still a high pitch shriek in your ears. You glue your eyes back to your intruders and flinch when Figure One raises his hand-

-and smacks Figure Two across the back of his head, effectively cutting off his shrills.

"Shut up!” With a thick Russian accent, you can tell at least of them is male. Both in black pants, boots and heavy looking coats. Both of them had on thick scarves to protect their faces from the cold but obviously didn't touch their red cheeks or nose. “Need I remind you? We still have no idea if this base is hazard or not!” Then you notice something that makes you flatten back to your dead end, fast racing heart skipping a beat and tripping during the relay.

They held guns.

"I-It's fucking moving!"More heavy Russian, both men. You flinch at the gesturing of Figure Two's weapon at your direction, brain quickly racing to figure out what kind of gun it was. How much damage could it do? How much danger were you in? You were no pistol jockey but it was certainly obvious to anyone who watched enough action movies that it was some kind of sub-machine gun. You try to remain calm, don't make any sudden movements. Whoever they are, they mean business and are somewhat occupied between themselves.

“And that answers the question, we're not alone here!”

Maybe you could communicate with them? Hopefully, if you let them know you were no threat and maybe do whatever they want, they might let you go...Or at least kill you quickly. Your gut twisted as you took a deep breath, trying to control your nerves. Just ask them nicely, just say 'excuse me, where am I?'

“What the fuck is going on?!” A scream erupts your mouth as gunshots echo through the hall, ricochet of bullets bouncing off steel. Your hands quickly come up to cover your head as you squish down, making yourself as small as you can while attempting to scramble away into the nearest corner. You find and nudge yourself behind a piece of re-barb sticking through the wall and shout. “No! I'm sorry! I didn't mean too! Please stop!” 

There's commotion, the shots stop but there's sound of struggle; cursing and footsteps. You are too scared and shaking to look. What the fuck is wrong with you, why did you say that?! A sob makes you choke on your breath, coughing pathetically as you feel your eyes start to sting. “P-Please, I-I don't know what's going on?” The oncoming silent is thick with only their rough breathing and your futile attempts to keep from crying. The ringing in your ears dies down and you slowly slide your arm away from your eyes.

They had both put some distance between you. Figure Two has his gun aimed on your figure and his shoulders are shaking. Your vision darts to Figure One who covers his hand over one of his ears, ducking his head a bit to the side.

"Mission Control, this is Squad Three.” An ear piece. Where they military or maybe a very well prepared bunch of terrorists? You flinch when Figure One gives you a sharp look, face contorting sour. “We have made contact with a possible Omnic enemy.” Your nerves lurch at the red colored word and shakily you raise up both your hands in submission.

“I-I''m not an enemy, please. I-”

“Shut up, you machine!”

Your brows pull down in a frown. “Machine? What are you tal..k..ing... a.bo-” Slowly, your vision comes to focus on your own hands, specifically; the clear plastic of your own hands and the machine workings underneath.

No, no...No.

“What the hell-” You breath shudders as your current panic grinds to a shrieking stop. Bringing your limbs-the limbs closer you get a better look at the paneling on the palms, the purple, red and blue wires running underneath that connected to metal bolts and cylinders. Branch like stems connect what should have been bone, bent and shifted as they should when your curl the appendages into fists and relaxed.

To your horrific shock and confusion, it didn't end there. It continued up your arms, almost glass like casing acting as skin to protect the mechanical infrastructure underneath, a complex web of parts that bunched up and seemed to replicate muscle, a chorus of lights run through the lines and creases in a pulse mimicking repeat. Your gaze runs to your legs, outstretching them in front of you to see a skeletal impression through your feet. Your ankles are bolts. Your calves are thick cable mesh. Your knees are joint plates. When you reach your thigh you choke a sob to see that you had been naked this entire time but it doesn't matter; there's nothing there.

Male? Female? Your chest is flat and you don't recall it being any different. You don't remember...

Don't remember...Who are you? What were you just doing? What's your name? You feel as though you knew just a second ago but now it's all gone. Empty and hollow, a hum vibrates through your throat.

Setting your hands on your lap, you click your fingers against the casing. Almost getting lost in the glass like tapping sound,your slowly dawned to the realization that you don't feel the sensation of the touch. You don't feel anything; you don't feel the cold obviously in the air, you don't feel the frost on the floor against your hard shell. Your quick and hyper breathing has calmed to an almost sleep like inhale and exhale, catching and clouding on the freeze.

Inhale...Exhale...Focus. What do you know?

There are two men in front of you, both in winter gear and armed with guns. Figure One is taking a careful approach towards you, weapon raised and ready to shoot at a moments notice; he's the one in charge and the most sensible of the two. Man Two is behind him, backing Figure One up and mirroring his movements to come closer; he's jumpy and looking for less of a reason to shoot than more just the chance. Slowly, you raise your hands as a sign of peace, both of them flinch and still their movements as you take the chance carefully get up from the ground and step out from your corner.

You watch them; expecting and waiting for one of them to make a move.

Finally, Figure One makes a gesture with a jerk of his head over his shoulder, down the hall behind them. He waves his gun to follow, get in front, move where they can see you. “You are to come with us.”

They don't have the answers you want but chances are, they're gonna take you to someone who will.


	2. Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, yay. A quick shout-out to Faranae, wishiwoshua (SpoopyG), FisuMisu, Nopersdopers, and VanillaFive for leaving me some motivating comments! And wonderful thanks to all of you who gave me Kudo's and viewed the story. Now as someone who doesn't play the game but keeps tabs on the character sheets and profiles, Zarya might seem a little rough in the chapter but given the circumstances surrounding our Reader and her distrust for Omnics I would say this behavior is in character for her enough to pass. Let me know what you think in the comments and if you see any mistakes or wording, please point it out so I may have a chance to correct it and hopefully not look too much like a dope.

The metallic taps of your feet against the floor echos down the dark corridor. The thumps of your captors boots are soft in comparison. Both of the men behind you seem to be keeping a close eye, hands griping their guns outside your peripherals. They're still on edge, still waiting for you to make some kind of move. What? You didn't know. Your only intention was to play along and learn something about yourself. But they were acting as though you would spring on them at any moment. They obviously thought that you were dangerous. Were you dangerous? Their silence left you alone with your thoughts. While you continue down the hall you were growing an idea about where you might be.

The place was obviously some kind of high-tech facility. Judging by the rust and state of atrophy, it seems to have been abandoned for some time but why? Writing on signs and old papers once pegged or taped to the walls; ripped and illegible. You passed by a shattered glass window, giving an inside view to what once was a lab. You imagined white pristine walls now charred black with fire damage. Shards of broken beakers, hard tables smashed, ceiling skeleton exposed. You give a grunt as your shoved from behind. Figure One gives a gruff, ’Keep moving.’ as he forces you back into pace with the butt of his gun. You do as you're told, releasing another sigh as you look up at the fallen ceiling and fixate on the busted lights. 

You're forced into another stop as you come to your first fork in the hallway. The far right is blocked with re-barb and rubble, droplets of water work down the structure and freeze in thick torrents of gray and black ice. The middle path leads to what looked like an elevator, the doorway open and a loose steel cord sways in the air. You wonder about the destruction of a steel container most likely sitting at the bottom of the shaft, imagining the chaos of it falling and that shattering screech as it hits the bottom. 'I hope no one was in that.' You look to your left and frown at the sight. There's a size-able hole in the ground; a slab of concrete connecting to the lower floor and metal girders allowing passage to the courageous but it would be impossible to cross without first taking a leap of faith. You bite your lip at the threatening view and give your captors a look over your shoulder. You watch as Figure Two trudges forward over to the hole and pause inches before it, he looks at you, you look at him and drop your jaw as he takes a few steps back before running towards the gap. 

A plea of 'wait' catches in your throat as you watch him leap, legs outstretched to catch the coming landing and he sticks it with a roll on the ground. He gets back to his feet as though it was nothing, patting himself down casually. You cannot help it to give a low and impressed whistle. 'Now, that was some parkour level shit.'

He stares at you, tilting his head in confusion at your out of place reaction before he shakes it off and remains with his gun on you. Man One comes up to stand beside the hole, gesturing with a point of his chin.“We go left.” And there's a pause in the air before you realize what he's obviously implying. You back away with a raise of your hands, flinching when guns are raised in response.

“Wait! You expect me to do that? Are you crazy?!” A click of a disengaged safety freezes you in your tracks and you whimper with Man One's fierce glare at your denial. You once again shake your head, looking between him and the jump. “Dude, I'm serious. I can't make that.” His shoulders shake with a coughed laugh before he tilts his head, cocking a hip to the side.

“Nice try, pretending to be scared. A jump like this is nothing for you machines.” You shudder with how honest his tone is; you're not acting and neither is he, he honestly believes that you can jump that. You hope for some kind of back up and look at Man Two, unsurprising to see him giving the same displeased and pointed look in your direction.

“You two are crazy.” Safety two is off, this time from Figure One. He thrusts his gun forward as a show of threat and growls.

“One more time, Omnic. You make the jump or I shoot.” You bite your lip and feel a sting in your eyes, legs starting to shake.

“I-I...” You look back to the hole and whimper as you force yourself forward, scooting carefully past the threatening soldier with a whine. As you stand over the hole you take a few wheezing breaths and judge just how deep the drop was. If you didn't make it you were almost certain to either bruise or break something, seeing reflective pieces at the bottom you hazard a guess that it was glass. As your foot shifts some loose rubble, it breaks off some of the crumbled concrete and your eyes train it as it drops down the dark pit. You count the seconds before impact and shake your head when you reach over five.

Nope.

You let out a broken sob and scramble away from the edge, ignoring the glares and growls from your captors. “Shoot me, threaten me, I don't care. I-I am not making that jump.” You press yourself against the nearest wall and wrap your arms around to hug yourself close, you eyes burning even more and a tightening in your chest making it hard to breath. You give a glare to Man Two, over the threshold and point, “Y-You might be able to do that, cause your some kind of fucking super soldier-er whatever but I'm not, okay?!” You drop to your knees when Soldier One marches his way over, boots stomping hard against the ground. His shoulders are too squared and when he comes close enough you instinctively raise our fists to protect and cover your face, fearing the thought he would try a punch. “No, I won't do it. You can't make me!” You bodily shudders refuse to cease, you expect some kind of pain, hear a gunshot, be put to death but nothing happens. Your breaths come out in wheezes and you listen to your own sobbing and sick sniffles. Lack of action causes you to reopen your eyes and jerk when you see the man so close, a mere breath away. 

Something shines in his eyes that gleams of curiosity, pity, confusion. His brows are drawn in a frown, forehead creasing. He puts down his gun, keeps it near his knee, still within reach and a hand on it. Slowly, he brings up his other hand and tugs his scarf down below his chin. A bush of curly beard hair reminds you of a grandfather you don't remember having; salt and pepper and well managed. You watch his eyes search your face for something, you don't know what and flinch when he hesitantly reaches out for your face, raising a single brow in faux concern. 

A whimper crawls out your throat when he cups your cheek and you catch sight of his thumb as he strokes it just under the bottom of your eyes. He pulls back and you see wetness on his fingers, your face contorts in slight disgust as he brings it to his mouth, giving it an experimental lick and after doing so, spits away to the side. The expression of disbelief is shared when he gestures you up and down, like your crying wasn't something he was expecting.

“What the hell are you?” He answer him with a small shake of your head, wiping you nose with your arm and sniffling.

“I just woke up here.” He huffs, getting back to his feet an releasing an aggravated groan.

“Omnic's can't cry.” That word again, they had said it before but to think on it brings back fruitless results. You know it's familiar but you can't find why. You give your own frustrated sound, tired of being confused and scared. It's the only thing you can feel apparently; you didn't even feel your tears as they cascaded down your cheeks. The sting in your eyes was the only sign your body gave away that you had begun to cry. You tilt your head back to bump the wall and give a sigh of defeat, trying again to explain your situation, hoping this time they would listen now that one had at least approached first.

“I don't know what an Omnic is.” You expect the roll of his eyes, disbelieving shake of his head and hold up your hand to cut off whatever reply he planned to make. “Just...Can you please pretend that I'm telling the truth? That, I'm not pretending I can't do this or don't know that?” At his lack of response you figure he decided to indulge you. With forced energy, you begrudgingly will yourself back into standing and give Figure One a glazed look.

“Isn't there another way across?” It's a fruitless question to ask, you know the answer and don't bother watching him shake his head. Instead you approach the hole once more, across the gap Figure Two has his hand to his ear, most likely in rely with higher power but you're too numb to try and listen to what he's saying. Finally, you make up your mind; squeezing your hands into balled fists and taking a deep breath as you look back over to One of your captors. “I'll make you a deal, if I make the jump then the two of you can go on being mean to me for shit I don't understand and I'll continue to play along but-” And this is where One crosses his arm and waves his hand 'go on.' You back away, hoping to get a running start and come back just far enough to give Figure One a dead look in the eye. “If I drop and somehow survive, you have to try and believe me when I say; I don't have a goddamn clue as to what's going on. Deal?”

You hear an echoed 'if' of distaste from Figure Two but keep your eyes on the only man who seems hesitant enough to give you the benefit of the doubt. You end of winning the staring contest, your prize is a confirming nod of his head and grunt of displeasure. Finally, letting the stress sag down your shoulders you peer back forward, popping your neck side to side in a show of effort. “Just...Run and jump, right?”

“When you land, keep to your feet. Don't let yourself roll as he did.” The first bit of friendly conversation and advice since you met them. You give him a confirming smile and nod. “Thank you.” You look away before you can register his reply and take off.

You make the jump.

Of course, you do. You make it seem easy compared to the man you lightly land beside. It doesn't stop the disbelieving and somewhat crazed laugh from erupting out your mouth, you want to brush your hair back, settling on covering your eyes and letting the adrenaline quiver through you. With a sound of a thump you register Figure One landing his and turn around with grit teeth and expectant expression. Deals and deal and your prepared for him to point his gun and bark an onslaught of furious orders again. Instead, he gives you a small nod that almost hints at impressed.

“See? Told you, a jump like this is nothing for an Omnic.” You give a relieved sigh at how their rough treatment from before contrasts against the sweeping gesture Man One gives you, an 'after-you,' motion that you take with bit more grace now that he was being somewhat civil. As you continue down the path they directed you decide to take your chance and keep the ball of 'nice' rolling.

“Is that what I am? An Omnic?” You keep your eyes forward, too scared of seeing them go back to being assholes, instead you eye your hands and watch in sick fascination and the tendons that work with each twitch of your fingers.

“Until we know for certain otherwise, that is what we will continue to call you. Unless you have a handle or number?” You raise your brow at the mechanical options and shake your head; empty.

“Don't know.”

The silence lasts a pause before this are twisted up a bit; your captors speak first.

“Do you have a name, then?” And you turn to the one who spoke, Figure Two now has his scarf down. He's sporting a nice handlebar mustache that makes your lips twitch. Your eyes start to sting again while looking at him, feet catching and almost causes you to stumble before you look back forward, towards the ground and kick numbly at a rock.

“I don't know.”

Soon enough, they go on to whisper to themselves as you keep forward. A light starts to show at the end of the hall and you spot movement in the distance. More people, more chatter, more footsteps against concrete and steel. The second you step out you're going to be surrounded, that's what they had probably requested over their earpieces and you're pretty certain that whoever is all out there, they're going to be just as judgmental and rough as your captors had been. Your stomach drops at the probability that they won't be as understanding, that they'll shoot first as well. You sigh in shudder and bring up a hand to rub at one of your eyes, almost certain that you're crying again. 'You can do this, if you can convince the two of this sticks your innocent you can most certainly try against an army.' As you step out through the doorway you're momentarily blinded by white light and hold back the flinch when you hear a serious of guns being locked and loaded. Knowing full well you couldn't just stand there with your eyes closed you bully yourself into waking them back up, hoping this was all just a terrible dream.

The white doesn't go away, in fact, it's everywhere. The collapsed doorway opens out to a winter wonderland. Thick gray clouds above accumulate threateningly and unleash a gust of heavy white flakes. You let your hand at your side open just a bit to try and catch a flurry, mentally attempting at keeping some semblance of calm, when you're scared shitless of the number of guns greater than two that now train your every movement. You're shoeless in the snow and expect pinpricks of cold that never comes. The breeze causes your body to shudder but now you realize that it's more of a phantom reaction than because of the cold you don't feel. It's a human reaction, an impulse your brain recognizes as too normal to forget.

Lastly, you greet the elephant in the open; turn your gaze forward to see a group of people; all in the same outfits as the men behind you, all armed to kill, and all glaring with threatening intent. You chew your inner cheek in view of the crowd, slowly lift your hands and take a step back in retreat, stopped by a somewhat comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don't make any sudden moves and be as honest as you can.” Oh good, more friendly advice. Your teeth click in nervous chatter as you slowly nod your head and try as you might, you cannot get yourself to smile in peace.

“I...I mean you no harm?”

“Yet.” You watch as the crowd disperse for a single woman to march through; steady tempo and with a body posture that commands respect and authority. Her broad shoulders are squared, chest puffed and head tilted up to raise her cut chin. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her heavy brown fur coat and her footsteps sends vibrations against the soles of your feet. She stops to stand in front of you, compared to you, her towering height allows her to glare down in accusation with sharp amber eyes and you...You're tiny, feeble and can't stop staring, mind pulling a blank with radio static. Under her threatening demeanor you panic and try to think of something to say. This lady is obviously the boss and you need to-'Just say something, anything to let her know you're not an enemy Omnic-or-whatever.' You swallow your nerves and take breath.

“I like your hair.” It's pink, cut short and shaven at the sides; it's a rugged but pretty choice of hairstyle and color. She sounds an expected scoff through her nose and crosses her arms. Doing so lifts the folds of her coat, she purposely displays the gun at her hip. Another person waiting and ready for you to make a dangerous move. 

“Playing ignorant to your situation does not make you any less guilty, Omnic.” You are tired of this argument.

“I'm not playing ignorant. I've told your men behind me the same thin-” Your brain catches up to the details in what she said and causes you to gaff. “Wait, guilty? I didn't do anything!” A clear of throats from behind catches the woman's attention and you duck your head to mutter in your chest harsh words of aggravation to yourself as a conversation concerning you goes on as if you're not there.

“Captain Zarya, ma'am. We actually um...” You wish you had pants, wish you could shove your hands in your pockets and pout. Thinking on it now, you let your eyes widen as you study the crowd in front of you, most of them lowered their guard but some still itching to shoot. Every man and woman, thickly clothed for the cold and all with their eyes harshly judging you, glaring, some disgusted, some curious, very few had any pity across their faces. They were all staring and you were still naked, still didn't have much of enough defining features for it to matter but still-

You get Zarya's attention with a cough, now that you know her name it felt a bit easier to try and talk to her. “Ma'am, may I please have some clothes?” She looks at you up and down in disgust and you can't blame her, really. You don't like the way you look either, which is all the more reason for you to ask. “Just...Something to cover myself, please?” You shrink as she goes back to discussing with Figure One and Two, ignoring your plea.

“She's obviously a new model.”

“She can cry. Expresses like a human being, reacts like a-”

“It is a machine and will be treated as one.” You flinch under the harsh and punishing statement. There would be no reasoning here and forced you into questioning your actions. The men were suspicious and angry from just meeting you but at least they somewhat let off, this woman; you can tell just by the way she speaks, she hates you. You hesitant to move when she turns back your way and let out a cry as she grabs your hands, forcefully pulling you close.

You stumble, give a gasp at the harsh click that sounded and watch in mute horror as a band of light forms around your wrists, jerking them mercilessly to hold together; they were some kind of cuffs. To your dismay the rough treatment returned, back and dialed to a hundred. After securing your hands, Soldier Lady turns you around by your shoulders and shoves you in the direction of a nearby army truck.

You tumbled, almost fell to your knees if not for the tight hand that grips your arm. Had you any skin it would not doubt be bruising already as she drags you on, not even giving you a chance to try and get back on your feet.

“Move!” It's a stupid move that you tug back and grunt, make any motion to try and get your to release. You freeze as suddenly the pushing stops and you a click, then a loud BANG! Erupts next to your ear, sending a chorus of bells to vibrate through your skull. Your cry is cut off as she then presses the still hot barrel to your temple. How do you know it's hot if you can't feel it? You hear a sizzling sound as it keeps contact with your casing, causing you to let out a whimper and yes, you're crying again. Terrified, you're almost certain you could piss yourself.

A promise breaks through the ringing in your lobes, clear through the static and beating of a heart you weren't sure you had or not.

“Try me, Omnic.”


	3. Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Google Translate was more than willing to help with the Russian.  
> Ад : Hell  
> Христос : Christ
> 
> Someone who's fluent please correct me if it is wrong. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, update so close from the last, I couldn't stop writing. If you are wondering; no, there is no set schedule for updates and I'll tell you not to get your hopes up for them to be this frequent either in the future. I will let you know that comments will help with my work ethic; throw this dog a bone once in a while, it'll do a trick.
> 
> Also, there's little bits and pieces in here that should give way at how Reader's memory is fluctuating between what she knows and doesn't. As she said, there are things she's remembering and forgetting as soon as they come and if you can spot what some of them are, you will most definitely get praises.
> 
> There's the point of view shift in a story about you from character's not you, and I'd like know if it was okay or not. There are too many repeats of the word 'expression, nodded, blinked.' I needed some way to keep it fresh and this was it, so there will be more shifts like this in the coming chapters. Tell me Ceasers; yay or niegh?

The walls are gray, looks like they're made of steel but who knows? You half expect them to be built bullet proof and what with how futuristic the world you're in right now, it wouldn't surprise you. You give a dismayed sigh and tug a little absentmindedly at the glowing beams that keep your hands chained to the center of the table. 

The truck ride here was...suspenseful to say the least. Stuffing yourself as far back into the seat as you could and keeping as much distance between you and Zaryanova as possible. No move was made from her so long as you kept still and kept your head down. There were no windows in the back, nothing to let you know where you were going or if you were even moving. You heard an engine turn over but there was no crunching of snow or bumpy ride. It wasn't until you hear a tap on the back door that you discovered that you had been in motion the entire time and arrived at your destination in some kind of hovering Jeep.

You hadn't had the time to look at where exactly you had came from, just knew it had to be a similar facility to the one you're in now. Zarya drug you again, quite forcefully out the truck and into the building-

'Institute, that's the word.' 

She gave little to no care about your bearings, how you wanted to dig your heels in but for fear of being shot, followed with her too quickly, it made you stumble every time she took a turn. More guns shadowed behind; Man One and Man Two, at least some friendly faces in the halls of strangers who looked at you with such shock, confusion, disgust. What the fuck did you do wrong?! What was wrong with you!? 

The energy cuffs fluctuates, adjusting in result of your movement as you wonder just what's considered normal right now. You search your mind for the definition of the word and can't seem to recall if it describes the situation you're in or not. You shake your head, no; this is not normal. Being forced into a waiting/interrogation room against your will is not normal. Being chained to a steel table is not normal. You had asked for a lawyer, that was one of the first things out of your mouth for some reason; a reflex, and the strong lady laughed in your face. 

You get it. You're not normal. You can tell that much by looking at the one way mirror to your right of the room. It's the only thing that decorates the place, minus the table you sit at and the metal chair sitting opposite of you. Judging by your reflection you may as well be a work of art all your own. It's the first time you got to see your face, get a glimpse of just who you looked like. Well, it wasn't anyone you recognized. In terms of facial features you were, what you would consider; ordinary. A bit bland maybe: a straight nose, two eyes, a pair of lips, everything one needed to have on a face. It was the mechanical features and make-up underneath that struck out to label you as something inhuman.

That in mind you focused on the scourge that you still weren't used to. Your skin was not skin, it was a kind of silicone that bent and gave. It was completely transparent to reveal the metallic macabre that was your circuits and wires. The veins that highlight throughout your body congregate at the center of your chest where you guessed was either your heart or where it would have been but instead there looked to be a box inside, keeping the source hidden away. Probably for the best, you don't really want to see that or the organs you apparently don't have. If there was anyone on the outside of the mirror, which you were sure there was, they were probably sizing you up just the same. 

They'd see how your face is practically the only 'solid' thing about you. While the lights of a galactic nervous system blink through your body, your face is cold and lifeless in comparison; made of white plates, with black etchings that cross your jaw line and under your gray camera shutter eyes. As relieved you are for how bland it looks, that exactly why it would draw some extra attention. It sticks out too much against all the flashing lights and alien tech. It's a simple face mask but as soon as you turn your head it goes back to being otherworldly. Against the side of your forehead, the plate is charred with a shape of a small circle. It's where Zarya had forced her gun to your head and may or may not have intentionally burned you. Your ears are black padded indention's, no lobes or anything just literal speakers that you would see on headphones. From behind your 'ears' is where the plate of your face stops, and it goes right on back to being a cluster of glass-like skin and casing. If you turned far enough you could almost swear you'd see a brain. Really, as sick and twisted as it is to look at; you try to focus on the fact that all of this is you. 

Is this you? 

You search your mind for any prior memory of what you looked like, anything at all really. Was it normal for you to look like this? What did the men and Zarya call you-an Omnic? Something about that word brings up a sensation of familiarity. 'It's right there, I can feel it.' But reaching for it, it's too far away. The puzzle piece was missing just a tiny little corner; it would fit the slot but the picture would turn out all wrong. When you envision yourself in mind; you see skin, hair, eyes that don't focus and dilate like a camera lens, more vibrant colors than gray. You imagine pink and dark lips instead of rubber silicone. You see freckles or sun kissed cheeks, tiny hairs on your arms, tattoos that you did and didn't have.

It wasn't that you didn't recognize yourself, it was that you couldn't. You know the memory is there, you know that, since you've woken up, you've already remembered something and forgotten something but you just can't recall what it is! It happens so fast and goes by so quickly you just can't grab it before it's too late; then it's gone again. It was starting to piss you off.

“Ahem-”Your knee's come into contact with the bottom of the table and echos through the room with a loud CLANG! The quick surprised gesture forced the woman seated across from you to raise her brows in alarm before schooling them back to looking calm and unimpressed. You're impressed; impressed at how you didn't hear her come in. You stare at her mutely in wonder at how long she had been there, when she came in. Then you look down to how the steel table is now bent outwards from where your knees had hit it. That was...new. A testament to how little you knew of your own strength. 

'Questions for later,' You take a breath and re-situate yourself in your chair, gave the stern looking women an apologetic smile. 'Try to make peace.' 

“Uh sorry, about your table.” She hums dully and clears her throat once more before swiping the screen of the tablet she held. She was acting as if you hadn't done anything, pretending was a better word. Didn't matter how human you weren't, you knew that kind of shit startles people far more than just a few second. You know you're not normal. She's saving face, why? Looking her up and down at her neat long pulled back black hair, her manicured nails and exfoliated skin. The trim and polished white suit is a lovely fit with how cold she acted. She's important, that much is clear by the way she holds herself and her aura just screams power.

She's the interrogator. Good cop or bad? You're guessing good. With a sigh, you expect another strong series of questions and accusations for things you didn't do. You give a roll of your shoulders in preparation and ask in futility.

“Before we do this, don't I get a phone call or something?” Yeah right, who would you call? Number filter through your head and you blink them back just as quickly. Steadily reaching up, as to not paranoi your guest, you attempt to rub at your eyes. The energy linking you to the table, prevents you from doing it easily but you manage. 'Remain calm,' You tell yourself again. Wonder why you had even asked her such a question until Mrs. Serious slides her tablet to the middle of the table and gives a single tap to the screen.

You let your eyes light up when a projection lifts from the device; a full blue, almost transparent screen that hovered inches from the media pad, three times the size of it and twice as long. A bar appears in the top left hand corner, blinking steadily and waiting for input. 'Cool.' You admit, 'More future shit.' Albeit reluctantly.

The woman stands from her chair and pushes it back against the table, causing little to no sound of its legs scooting across the floor. She tucks her hands behind her back and circled around as her heels clicking against the polished rock linoleum. CLICK! CLOP! CLAP! CLICK! Your eye could twitch in rhythm with the seconds speed.

At last, she speaks. “Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak.” Her voice is very soothing, accent soft although the Russian creates a bit of a national exotic twist to her feminine soprano. “Dolphin, creed, atrophy,” You take a glance back at the holograph to see her spoken words appearing on screen as she says them, audio input; hands free. “Machine, doll, evening.” Climatically, she stops: having made a complete lap back to where she had started. You stare in befuddlement and give a small tip of your head at her. Her face crinkles at the action before her eyes set on a determined glare.

“Jailbreak audio command; what is your directive?”

You continue to stare at her, glancing around a bit and at the holograph before returning. She was talking to you right? 'I mean, she's looking at me, we're the only two in here.'

You figure on trying to be polite, she seems like a sensible adult.“Pardon?”

Okay, you were wrong. For a second she looked almost taken back, eyes widen before returning with an even more deadly glare. Her stiff lips turns down in an ugly grimace. “Machine, doll, evening.” She repeats, leaning in closer. “Jailbreak audio command; what is your function?” You give her a nervous chuckle and attempt weakly to pull at your bonds. The table scoots at your small tug.

“...Um?” Then she get's forceful, sets both hands on the table to keep it still from your movements. What reaction you're giving her isn't the one she wants but you have nothing else to offer.

“Machine, doll, evening.”

“Wha-“Jailbreak audio command; What is your directive?!” 

'Jailbreak audio commands? What did she think you were some kind of mach-Oh...' You turn over in your head, relieving a huge sigh and ignore how put off and offended it makes the woman seem. 'Must be what they do with Omnics.' It obviously didn't work on you though. Sitting back in your seat with some newfound understanding on your situation you give the lady a bland look, raising a brow in challenge.

'Really?'

“How about you just ask me like a normal person instead of commanding it?” Her unwarranted anger melts into shock before becoming irritated. While still on a mix between angry and confused she no longer looks as though she wanted to bite you now. With a shake of her head she takes her hands off the table and crosses them firmly over her chest.

You recall a parental figure doing the same thing when you were-“You are not a human being.” It strikes a tender cord and you pass a frown at your reflection.

'Well...she's right.' It still doesn't feel right, though. You make a show to roll your eyes and tap your fingers against the table. “Indulge me.” As she keeps her gaze and expression set for a few moments, eventually she gives up. She knows she not going to get anything otherwise, the look you're giving her should say so. When she drops her shoulders, she gives a passing wave of her hand. 

“I do not have to take order's from you. I am in charge here.”

You fail to hold back your giggle at her declaration of authority. If she weren't wearing such expensive looking heels you could swear she'd be stomping on them right now. Her white pristine suit, pretty perfect black hair. She made you want to sneer at her and stick out your tongue. You raised her hands in a 'play nice' kind of way. “It's true, lady. I'm just as confused as you are.” She reminds you of a type; the pack of girls that make snide comments behind people's back and spread false rumors. Her mascara may be pretty but her eyes scream 'snake!'

“We have firm reasoning to believe that you are keeping information of your objective and why you were stationed in a remote abandoned military base.” So, it was a military base; explained all the guns being present there. You had a hard time believing they all arrived just for you. How had it been abandoned? Why?

You give a shake of your head.“I'm not hiding anything.” At least, you didn't think you were.

Her hands are back on the table. “Yes, you are. If you think for one second that I am to believe an Omnic is not pla-”

“What's an Omnic?” Again, your questions catch her by surprise, choking her questioning and rudely interrupting.

“What do you mean, 'what's an Omnic?' You are an Omnic!” You look back down to your hands, tapping of your fingers against the poor abused table. You were leaving dents without meaning to and decided to stop, lifting your vision back to Mrs. White.

“Is that right?” Again, you give her a small shake of the head. “No, I don't think so.” And she seems to be breaking. Are you winning? You feel like you're winning.

“What is your directive?”

“I don't have one.”

“Then WHAT were doing in that facility?!” You give a blunt shrug of your shoulders, humming along for emphasis. Whatever tension she seemed to have put herself under, diminished with the outright casualness of your response. Her right eye twitches a little and she brings a hand up to squeeze at the bridge of her brows, sighing all the while. Somebody, give this woman a drink. You didn't plan on making this easy for her either, settling on the idea that since everyone else wanted to be a dick to you, it was only smart to 'play along.'

“Actually...I do know something.” And the look of hope in her eyes makes you want to point and laugh, because what you're going to say is not what she wants to hear. “I know you're wasting your time, thinking I know anything about what you're wanting to ask.” When all is said and done, she gives a groan; scraping her chair out from under the table and taking back her seat. The hologram of her tablet is still up and rearing to continue recording the discussion. Propping your elbows up on the table you lean forward a bit and give her a cheery smile, catching her stare at you from over the hand she's using to cradle her forehead.

“So, how about you pretend like I genuinely don't have a damn clue as to what's going on.” You make to sweep your hands to the side in a show motion, a deal, a suggestion and jump when a resounding SNAP echoes through the room.

You broke your cuffs apart. Mrs. Proper stares at you with wide disbelieving eyes, hands clutched to her chest to still her rushing heart. You give her a sheepish smile, clearing throat before you fold hands to set them atop your lap. Yeah, where was that reaction when you dent the table?

“Uh, sorry about your cuffs.”

“It's....Fine.” Or not, because the doorway opens for more gruff people with guns, a large man who jerks his head for her to follow. You watch in interest as she taps the hologram screen, turning it off and picks up her tablet to leave. Feeling like you have not said enough you flash her a grin and imaginary tip of the hat.

“I like your earrings by the way.” The appearance of her awing displeasure and malcontent sends you laughing.

Shit, this was so fucked.

You're not privy to the conversation outside, how they gather around the door and question the woman in white, looking as though she had seen hell and back. They talk among themselves, soldiers and captains, people of power over your well being. It was a dumb move to goad them on like that but you hadn't cared. She saw, she saw you laugh and your gray eyes light up and dim in expression, something she's never seen before with an Omnic. The Commander gives a salute.

“What would you have us do Mrs. Volskaya? This is your facility and at best, until a Government meeting can be held you're the only person with authority on this.” Tatya sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose to help in stifling that headache starting to form, it didn't do any good.

“As new a model as It looks, it is highly doubtful that if the up to date security code didn't work the old ones won't either.” She admits it to herself though, she wasn't expecting the thing to be so...so...human.

What was the Omnium thinking when it made this thing? How was it even capable of doing so? Why was the droid in the old facility and how did It get there? Why did It choose there to come online? Too many questions and not enough answers. If she didn't get something from the machine then it would fall on her. It would all be blamed on her. This was her jurisdiction and if she went to the government with nothing there would surely be punishment. She turned down towards the hall, meeting the corner and looked out the one way mirror to watch her prisoner devolve from a cocky and teasing 'teenager' to an uncomfortable civilian, rubbing Its arms, almost looking as if It might cry. The thing was capable of acting and hiding Its emotions in order to gain information.

She tsks, machines don't have emotions. “It broke those cuffs as easily as it dented the table and could just as well of snapped my neck but It didn't. It acts surprised when It does both of those things, yet still didn't make a move to harm me.” She huffs, looking over her tablet at the recorded conversation and rests at the part where you has made the comment of indulging you. 'It could break out of that room easily if It wanted, so why doesn't It? What is It waiting for?'

Katya looks over her shoulder as a member of the group clears his throat. One of the soldier's that had found the thing, older gentleman; late thirties. The patch on his chest says Piers. “Ma'am, may I?” She did not enjoy the militant way of asking permissions, it put her on edge. Gave her more power than she already had and didn't want. She only agreed for so many troupes in her facility because of how far they were coming with the new mech's. Ад, that's the only reason she was here in the first place, then this thing shows up just a few days before the inspection. She takes a breath to calm her thoughts, nodding to the gentleman in wait. “Go on.” Христос, she was tired. 

“With all due respect, my comrade and I got a better attitude out of her when we treated her like she wasn't a threat.” She gives another exasperated sigh, the thing had tried to convince her of the same thing, it wasn't a coincidence. “Let's just keep acting like she doesn't know what's going on. I'm sure if one of us plays her little game.”

“You keep saying her.”

“Well...Personally ma'am, I think it's a girl.”

“It's not a girl, It's not even human. It looks to not even know what It is. The fact that It has you believing in It just goes to prove how much of a threat this thing can be.” He huffs, from being cut off but she had to make it clear, giving Zarya a look from the back. Her closest friend had been watching along with her comrades, propped against the wall with her arms crossed; studying the creature just as intently as she had been. The fact that Alexandra remained for the interrogation let her know that the thing had even succeeded at getting under her skin.

She turns to her tablet, pulling a string in her ball of yarn. “I'm ordering an Omnictoligist here that's familiar with our equipment. I saw a port on the back of he-” She shakes her head, 'The thing is starting to get to me now.' “-Its neck that serves the usual plug-in for Omnic system maintenance. If I have my way, we'll have it hooked up by tomorrow morning and see what we can find out.” The man shuffles on his feet, a sour expression on his face. While everyone else looked in agreement with her way, he seemed disturbed. She raised her chin, giving a daring look. “Unless you think you can get better results than the professional?”

He huffs, chin moving side to side in thought before he nods. “You just don't know how to interrogate properly, ma'am. Five minutes, I'll have all we need.” She sighs, hoping it wouldn't come to that, they've already lost enough to these things, she pulls up the necessary online forms. Release of Liability, Wit of Consent, Hazard Forms. If It killed him in cold blood than the fault lies entirely on legal action against the machine, not her. Mother said be a business woman, said it'd make her proud and successful. She didn't lie.

She expects him to back out, get scared at the face of certainty and retreat with 'I'm sorry, I was out of line.' Instead, he gives a growl and snatches the pen, signing away his life before crossing his arms and looking to anyone who seemed willing enough to listen. “I need some clothes, she looks to be a medium in women's.” With no movement, he huff and throws up his hands. “Fine, I'll get them myself.” And marches away to do just that.

The short amount of time passing has you clicking a tempo against the casing of your thigh. You look up from your seat when the door at last reopens and smile at the familiar face that enters. The first thing you notice it that it's Figure One that had found you, the second thing is the lack of carrying a large gun but notice the pistol at his hip. His heavy coat in gone and reveals a black vest, strapped over a white tee that hugs his arms and makes his muscles stand out, a pair of dog tags dangle around his neck and the ear piece in his left is removed. Upon entering he gives you a look, followed by a hesitant and forced smile. Hey, he was still trying to be nice, you had to give the man props; Good on him.

You try to remain casual, not wanting to repeat the stupid stunt with Mrs. Proper. This man has known you longer, took the chance to try and relax around you even if it was just a small bit. Out of everyone you've met so far, he was the best person to put your trust in. 

“Sup, Thing One? Where's Thing Two?” Your heart flies up in your throat when you notice that he's holding something in his hands, eye bulging as you fail at suppressing the shifting croak of your voice when you realize what it is. “A-Are those pants?” He gives a nervous laugh at your reaction, slowly shifting closer to lay them on the table rather than handing them to you. You're on them in a second, grabbing the articles and not wasting a moment to stand and slip them on.

“Standard issue sweats...Had to remove the drawstring...You understand?” You nod your head, potential weapon; common sense. The gray sweatpants fit loosely on your average hips but well enough that they are not falling off. The white shirt is perfect size, long sleeved and hugged your frame much like his did. At least you weren't naked anymore, thank god you weren't naked anymore. You were fooling yourself into thinking it didn't bother you so much when it was so obvious now how much it had. 

You wanted to hug the guy, almost do but think twice on it. He's still tense and jumpy. Still conflicted on whether he needs to his gun back on you or not. He watches you change with fascination that makes you wish you had asked him to turn around. Him being in the room alone right now with just a small hand gun is a big display of trust though and you show him you're willing to give him the same, needed some way to thank him.

So you smile, give him the best and brightest you had to offer. “Thank you so much!” Whatever was going through his head you seemed to cut down, must have flipping a switch while you were at it because he returns your smile with one of his own. A deep throat laugh making it's way from his chest and he shakes his head in the face of you.

“You are truly quite expressive for a Omnic.” You double around the table and pull out his chair wanting for him to sit; hoping, he does and light up when he staggers at first but takes your offer. You go back to your seat, scooting in and smiling. Honestly, you must have looked like a five year old wanting to have a tea party but this was such a much needed switch from the treatment you had been receiving before and god if it's not a big relief.

So, in hopes for the good attitude to continue, you broach question one. “I'm still not sure what an Omnic is...Um,” You take a breath to try and get your words straight gesturing to the mirror in the room. “I'm not dumb, I get they may be forcing you in here to try and get me to croak...I guess? So I'm just laying this out there, it's not an act. This is not faked or anything like that...In case you were thinking it.” You were nervous too, jittery. He calmly watched you as you try to get centered and relaxed. “I just want to know what's going on. I wanna get it through to you guys; I'm not here to hurt anyone or steal secrets or anything like that.”

“But you admit to knowing we have secrets.” You stagger at his jab, it hits your gut hard and has you shake your head in denial. 'Damn, we were doing so well.'

“No, I mean. Everyone has secrets-” Put your foot in your mouth. “You're missing the point. I'm not here to cause trouble.” He hums, stroking his chin and setting an elbow on the table before gesturing to the large dent you had made in it before.

“You did that.” You take a breath, looking at the damaged steel and nod begrudgingly.

“Please believe me when I say that I honestly didn't mean to.” And you gesture to the broken bits of the cuffs that lay scattered on the floor. “I didn't mean to do that either...Didn't really know I could.” You shuffle in your seat, it was coming to mind that this wasn't exactly the friendly conversation you were thinking it would be.

You were wrong before; this guy was the good cop.

You attempt in testing the waters a bit. “Can I ask what your name is?” He hums curiously in question before giving a glance to the mirror as if in permission. You watch and wait for him to make a move for his com, ask higher power for granting and give a sigh when he returns your stare.

“Piers.” It's nice, a strong name that has you smile at how wider the door of trust and acceptance opens between you. 

You give a welcoming nod of your head and chirp. “Nice to meet you, Piers.” Drawing on a reply you give a nervous laugh at the reminder. “You know I don't remember my name so I guess just...Keep calling me Omnic?” At his intake of air you realize you may have admitted to something not true and quickly add, “Not that I'm saying I am one, you keep saying I am but...Ya know what, forget I said that. Call me whatever you want, okay?”

He pulls his brows down in a frown, confusion on his lips. “You don't-I...” He gives a growl, setting his hands on the table and leaning forward. 

You shrink back in your seat while your stomach does flops, you pissed him off? 

“You...Make it very hard to keep thinking you are a machine. Just look at you!” You bite your lip at his outburst, his wild gesture sweeping over your body. 

“You are not human! Why do you insist on acting like one? Your mannerisms, your reactions, how you sit and speak! What sort of sick joke is this that the Omnium makes such a thing and has it pretend to be human?”

“What, is your kind taking our lives on the battlefield not enough now?” He huffed, out of breath from his outburst. “Now, now you have to take our way of living from us too?”

You stare on in pain from the bombshell of a reaction, the overload of information. It adds so much more to the reasoning of their actions. Battlefield...Omnium...Omnic...You literally were the enemy but you didn't do anything. They've been blaming actions from someone else on you, simply because you looked like one of those Omnic things. These MotherFuc-His frustration reflects on you now, narrowing your eyes and feeling your anger well up. 

“You think this is a game to you?! Imagine how I feel! Human or not, I'm here and reacting just as well as you do so why don't you cut the shit and just treat me some goddamn dignity already?!” His eyes widen at the volume of your voice. Good, finally someone is listening.

You turn and point your finger to the window, hoping everyone outside get's a good look and earful. “I have NO IDEA what's going on! I woke up, saw the guns and have been doing everything you people want since then! I followed, I didn't fight, I've been civil this entire time but you people-” You look back to Piers. “I-I don't know what's happening. I don't know what I am, who I am. But I do know that being angry and suspicious of me for actions that I haven't done, just for a being an Omnic or whatever it is I look like is Irresponsible and Unfair!!” Your anger boils down, sets to simmer as you catch your breath. Stupid, stupid move. Two steps forward and you trip on the stairs heading straight back down into the snake pit. Setting your gaze down at your hands you lift and flex them, studying the mechanics before dropping them in your lap.

“Believe me or don't...I'm scared and I'm confused. Until you change your fucking attitude towards me that's all you're gonna get, please just...” 

Go away. 

“Leave me alone.”

Katya keeps her jaw firm, teeth grit as she waits for the attack. Her tense but expressionless persona betraying her internal struggle of feelings and opinions in her head. She sets her gaze to Piers, how he stands with his gun out and ready; ready for the machine to make the move and hurt him, kill him, do something to him. The outburst was obviously leading up for It to leap and go for his neck and she held her breath as your figure twitches to move. Instead of what she expected, what all war model Omnics did before that made this event so controversy, you don't attack. You shift in your seat. You hang your head. You whimper. Your shoulders shake and Katya squints at the sight of what she can't believe.

Something clear and liquid was leaking from your optics.

Were those...Tears?

The click of the door signals Piers leaving the room. He meets her over the corner and gives her and the rest of the audience a set look. “Well...I don't know about you but I think it's a bit more clear that we may need rethink our method of attack.” She shakes her head at how unshaken he was...Acting. He was acting like everyone else; that this event wasn't world shaking. Then again, she was one to talk.

“No,” She decided. “We just need to get the right person here who can make It say what we want.” She sets him with an orderly stare, managing a smile for show to try and make light on the situation, try to get everyone to relax and not panic. “Think you're up to escorting It to one of our cells until then, interrogator?”

He breaths out his nose and gives a nod. She watches him pat his gun at his hip as he re-enters the room. For some reason, the action leads her to believe the weapon wasn't loaded.

Ridiculous.


	4. Electrocute The Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the Russian translations. 
> 
> Что, черт возьми, это на твоем лице? : What the fuck was that on your face?  
> Черт побери! : Dammit/Fuck
> 
> Also, note that the Russian words are only used when not in your point of view...Wonder why that is? Read and find out. It's time to say that the pauses between updates is going to grow now. No more updating a day at a time because I've steadily caught up to what I have had already written. Chapter five is coming along well though and chapter six is already halfway done. I spent the past four days working on this story alone and nothing else I have some school projects that have been needing to get done.
> 
> It's a group project I don't trust a group to do. I'm funky like that. Anyways, if you had ready carefully in the last chapter you would have seen a comment from Mrs. Katya about when exactly we are in the canon timeline of the story.
> 
> Here's a hint; the next chapter finally kicks off to Overwatch plot.

You can't stop a frown at the sight of the room-No, wrong word. It's not a room; it's a cell. A simple bed to the left, attached to the wall by its frame. Just in the corner behind it was an indention that seemed to act like some kind of shelf as there were no dressers or cabinets. In the corner, the upper right side of the room, was a simple curtain hanging from a rod. It's what you assumed to be the only privacy separating the possible bathroom from prying outside eyes. A simple stool sat opposite of the right wall, where a counter jutted from; clear and spiffy. Everything was either white or gray. There were no windows, no lamps and there didn't seem to be any way out but for the double door of bullet proof glass that you entered through.

...Seriously? What kind of government official bullshit is this? Do military bases actually have rooms like these or are did they just break out all the stops for you? Well, you figured it would be justified given your little outburst. At least they let you keep the clothes. Piers is there just behind you with a gun at your back and you're so tired of it. You can't feel it but the knowledge that it's there is exhausting. “Ge-” It's a command you don't care to hear.

“I'm going.” You interrupt, walking in the cell and over to the bed, firmly sitting down and instantly regret when the frame sounds a CRACK! Great, did you break it? A sob comes free from your throat as you turn and grab the pillow, smothering your face to soundproof screams of anguish as you let out more stress and tension from inside.

You come up for air after what feels like minutes and hear a throat clear from behind you. “What? What else do you want?” You hear him shuffle, the screech of the counter chair being moved closer. Fine, better you both make yourselves at home. You hear him intake a stale breath of air and let it out all in one.

Oh, _he_ sounds tired? Fuck that, you're ahead in this race by miles.

“Look, Omni-...How about I call you something else, eh?” You huff, cuddling the pillow to your chest as you turn around in bed to face him. He's got his elbows on his knees; hands and fingers brought up to lace under his chin. His casual body language has you purse your lips in suspicion. He sees your expression and returns his own in the form of a wavering smile. “At this point, I think we've gotten to know each other enough for a nickname.”

“I don't know a thing about you.”

He leans back, nodding to the side in agreement. “Point. Well then...My name is Piers Sokolov. I am thirty two. I have a wive and a beautiful little girl that turns five in May.” You raise to sit on your hip and squint at him.

“What are you playing at? You obviously don't like me, so what? Are you going to pretend your outburst in there didn't happen?”

“Are you?”

Dropping your mouth open, you gap like a fish before huffing and shifting once again to sit upright on the bed, bringing the pillow and your knees to your chest. A respectful bob of your head, you give to him for leaving you momentarily speechless. You reiterate,“I'm not pretending.” As if you haven't said that enough times today.

“Neither am I.” You scoff and he waves it off. “It's true, I said some...Hateful things but it gave you a better understanding of where you're at in this mess, yes?” You rest your face back into the pillow, pretending not to hear him. Yeah, he did give you some better idea of things but did he have to be so mean about it?

“You need to understand, no matter what you say or do right now, everyone in this building is waiting for you snap. It happens to any and all rouge Omnics that we bring here and it doesn't help that you look and act the way you do. You seem too human, appear too human. Regular Omnics sound as though they talk through a radio while your voice is as clear as day. Your motions are just as casual and natural as ours and frankly...The fact that it _is_ so natural is very unsettling.”

True as it may be the logic is still unfair to you. “Judging me based on my speech and mannerisms is the same as me judging you on how you all are all Russian but I haven't hear a bit of Russian since I got here.” He reacts weirdly, a tug of confusion on his face that makes you reconsider your comment. You give a empty roll of your shoulders and add for the sake of truth.“Not that it matter's, I wouldn't understand you anyways.”

“Yet you can't tell whether or not I am speaking Russian or English, can you?” Your brain takes a moment to process what he's just said before you give a manic laugh. You pull at the sheets in anxiety at the overtone of implication but he drives the point home.

“I have been speaking to you in Russian since we've met and so has everyone else. You clearly understand us enough but have been replying to us in English, every time.” He had to be kidding. This was some kind of test, right? You pinch your leg, searching through your mind for some sign or sensation that would get this to make sense. You were speaking English but he was speaking Russian but you could hear English?

You carefully brought a hand up to fondle one of the soft pads of your 'ears' brushing over the firm but squishy material causes you to hear the asmric stokes in crinkles and cracks; a feedback of static and white noise. There was probably something inside that made this possible. You drop your hand back to your lap, pinching your leg once more and set your gaze to the curtain at the side of the room.

“I have to use the bathroom.” He raises a brow, not prepared for your off topic declaration.

“Can y-Do you really?”

“No, but this new revelation has me scared of continuing the conversation.” And he laughs, shoulders shaking like you just told the funniest joke in Russia. You pull a face, threatening to say you're serious but remain cut off by the stunning smile you receive. Honey brown eyes reflecting genuine mirth. Realization of The Dreadful is put on pause, you bring up a hand to cover your mouth and hide the most dork awful smile that threatens to crack your lips. You got him to actually laugh.

Send this boat of trusting friendship through the tunnel, we're sailing.

“At least you're honest.”

“So, you think I'm telling the truth now?”

“That was part of the deal, wasn't it?” Your eyes light up in relief at the reminder of the Jump. A giggle escapes you, rubbing your forehead to ease tension in the wrinkles. Did you have wrinkles or was that a skin thing? Either way, you were relieved.

This wasn't an act...

“So...What's going on?”

He clears his throat and looks to be carefully choosing his words.“I can not give specifics...You know, military secrets.” You watch and follow his gaze out the glass door. You see the same woman from before and behind her is Zarya, eyes glued to your form in threatening hostility. “You are...How do I put this?”

“You are in a dangerous place for what you are.” You look past the two ladies to the large machines hooked to steel support structures, the construction vehicles, the show of lights as sparks work off wielding equipment. Something about the view feels...Your cage is sound proof and you wonder if that meant the people outside couldn't hear you either. Shaking your head to yourself; of course they could. You hear a sharp sound and look back at your guest to see he had snapped his fingers for attention.

“Did you hear me? You should get ready.” He's getting to his feet, intending on leaving.

Your gut does flips at the thought of losing your only friend and quickly swing your legs off the corners of the bed. “Ready for what?” He makes a face, you see pity in his eyes as he slides a card through the center creases of the door. “Wait, get ready for what?!” As you make a move to stand, try to get him to elaborate just a little more, the frame above the exit shifts. You stare in awed trauma as the white wall separates and turns up into panels revealing a series of guns; their red sights training on your person. You gulp at the looming risk and turn back to the man, one foot out the door, to see him give a sad wave of his hand.

“I will see you later...Maybe we can think of a name to call you.”

The door slides shut and its once see through texture changes into a fogged and misty surface, denying you access to the view outside. The mechanical clicks of the security system locking away leaves you in a deafening silence, with only the sound of your breathing to break the tension.

Defeated, you return to sitting on the bed and grab the sheets to wrap yourself into the tightest cocoon you were able. You could think on his warning but fucking shit; it's been a long ass day...Has it been a day? You groan out loud. Wondering about the sophisticated mechanics of passed time was too much for you at the moment, you were just going to say it was 1AM in the morning and be done with it. That's what it felt like right now, a hard day after work with a sore body, too many complaining customers and-Well...You obviously remember what having a job is like, now if only you could remember who the FUCK you WERE. God, was there even really a you to remember? What if they were right about you? What if everything about you is fake and you don't even really know it? You just keep denying it because that's what you were _programmed_ to do.

'Stop.' You take a deep breath. 'Calm down...There's no point in thinking like that.' Like what? Like a sane person would in this situation?! 'No, like someone who has no control over their own thoughts. Just...Focus on something nice for once. If you keep worrying about the bad and the 'what if's' you'll drive yourself crazy.'

Good point...The bed's not broken. You have a roof between you and the elements. ~~Not that it mattered anyways.~~  You had clothes, nice clothes; without any holes in them. You didn't have to be seen naked or see yourself full of all the mechanical do-dads and thing-a-bobs. You close your eyes and try to picture yourself in a happy place. A field of grass, green or brown. Maybe a sandy bank with adorable sized cactus. While you were sick of the snow you imagined hills that were perfect for sleds or a flat yard just right for snowmen. Birds are singing, children are playing, pedestrians go about their daily grind.

It's a nice thought.

The world goes dark.

He stands at the presuppose of a court marshaling, keeping his teeth grit to hold back the spew of Russian curses as he leads you down a corridor. With his hand on your shoulder, gun against your back; he wants to apologize but his Superior would hear it. He'd call him a sympathizer, have him pack his bags and return to a home he wasn't ready to go back to. The man was known around the Barracks for doing that, Omnic neighbors killed his family, he had no tolerance for anyone who trusted them now. Took it as a personal insult.

He himself knew better. The world was never black and white. At one point he was sure those neighbors were on good terms with the man's family, friendly and supportive maybe kept to themselves but never did wrong before the Omnium reactivated. They had to have been older models, still susceptible to the influence to have so quickly gone out of mind. From his own experiences, he's seen good bots go mad overnight. Breaking into houses and having to act against people under the control of something they couldn't fight against. 'Putting them down is a courtesy,' he tells himself but one thing was always present in each and every bust and operation.

The Omnics always shot first.

So, when he seen you jump back after coming online and scream, he's all ready to put you out. He's ready for the swing, the kick, the unseen gun that you'd pull and shoot with. At the startle of his partner's shriek and fire, it had been too late when he noticed that you were unarmed and he quickly pulls his sights away.

It didn't seem to matter anyhow, the damn bullets had ricocheted right off you. Coupled with your different appearance the fact that your casing was bullet proof against anti-Omnic rounds was alarming by itself. Then, when you pushed yourself into the corner and gave out a _whimper_ , he slapped his ally across the head for the rookie misfire and makes him call it in. Something was wrong here.

They had been ordered for a standard sweep, make sure the old abandoned base was still old and abandoned. It had caught fire during the fighting and wasn't thought much about until a week later. Omnic forces were sighted moving their ranks closer to it. Precaution warranted and now looking at you, and how you stare in shock and horror at your own appearance...He didn't know what to think. You made the statement of oblivious; no idea what was going on. 'Please help me' whispers in his ears and he keeps watching, kept this gun on you because that's the same thing they all say before he has to shoot them, 'Before they make a move and take the kill.' So, when you don't do any of that, that makes strike two on his board. He forces you down the hall and orders you to jump the gap, you freak out like...Well, like someone who honestly couldn't do it.

Tells himself it's an act, 'Of course, you can make the jump. Don't play dumb.' But you...You fucking cry and just-He has to hold himself back from doing something stupid; from leaving himself completely wide open because this is all a trap. It has to be. This is some new generation Omnic trick to get him to drop his guard and Черт побери! It works! It get's him closer and closer and when you don't make a single move to attack he notices strike three. Omnic's can't cry, so Что, черт возьми, это на твоем лице?

You cut a deal with him, say you'll try under the condition he tries himself. You're in no position to bargain but just the look across your face, the honesty in your voice. He's too scared of what will happen if he says no. You make it, land like a pro and the way you had jumped was so fluid, graceful and while it looked to lack effort for such a small gap you celebrated like you honestly could have fallen and died. He kept playing along anyways, if you wanted to kill them you would have done it by now so there was really no point in the hostility. He didn't believe you; that would be stupid, but he didn't trust that you were lying either.

Then came the interrogation. The blatant display of strength that you didn't seem to know you had was another strike but he was already out of them. Hard as it was to believe, he knew you weren't acting and as Mrs. Volskaya orders to have you plugged in he thought it was a bad call. With how human you were, how expressive, emotional, lost and confused, putting you in that chair would do no-one any good, including them; the possibilities of how alive you would seem due to the shock, it could crumble everything they knew about what was normal for Omnics and they, he wasn't ready for that either. He knew he couldn't stop it, he could try and he did; gave it his best shot at getting you to crack all while giving you some idea at what you were in for. You're smart, he knows you figured it out, probably knew the second they laid sights on you that you weren't...Right in their eyes.

Treating you human was the best and worst way to have gone about it because when the next day comes he wishes you'd put up a fight. You trust him, probably fighting all red warning signs and signal flares in your head. You are strong, giving him only a pained pleading look that screamed 'I don't want to do this.' They wouldn't let him tell you anything more than what he already has and he hated it. Your tears remind him of Sasha, how she cries at every little thing and commands her Papa fix it. He feels your trembling and tries to give comfort with a rub of his thumb. They were coming to the doors, a pad at the side is pressed with a combination, quick swipe of a key card; it hisses open to reveal the room in question.

Circling the walls were trophies, well kept models of new and old Omnic's for reference and parts. Always reminded him of something out of a space movie when he first saw them, then again now a-days they actually did have pods like this in space.

He hears you give a gasp, a shock and startled realization at just what this meant for you. The single chair that loomed threateningly, with clasps at the arms rests and a leather belt just long enough to fit around someone's neck. He presses back when you struggle to get away, jabbing a bit more forcefully with his gun. He doesn't want to do this either.

“I know, I know. It's okay.” It's not, he's seen this thing in work before.

The long cable that dangles from the super computer trapped in the black dome above it relay's signals to the monitors on the wall; the EKG and CT screens that would show every tick and seizure your body would make, what it does inside. Then there was the most threatening part of all; the docking needle.

He glances at the port in the back of your neck, visible under the shell that covered you. Whatever you were made of, that needle was designed to pierce the frames of any Omnic, regardless of whether they had been plugged before or not. When he started as a cadet he didn't believe Omnic's could feel pain, this method of torture proved him wrong.

He takes a breath and pushes you once again. “It's okay. Keep going, just...Just don't fight it and it'll all be over in a minute.” God, it was like trying convincing you that death row was fun.

When you go slack under his grip he knows you've given up. A shudder breath out your lips as you let them strap you in, forcing your hands to the rests and legs in the sleeves. He stays near with the excuse of 'just in case' but also because he knows you need the support. You manage him another pleading look at the corner of your eyes and the tears once again remind him of home. He has to behave, has to convince himself that this is for the greater good. This was just a step before he could go home. If you actually did know something that could potentially win this war faster, he would get to go home and if you didn't...He was lying to himself in thinking they would let you go.

“Are they gonna kill me?”

He winces, biting his lip and quickly shaking his head, wondering just what kind of Omnic science you pulled on him to make his eyes sting so badly. “Нет, машина. You are too important for them to kill.” He values your honesty, even if he's still not sure if it is or not. So, he gives you the same kind of courtesy you gave him, keeps to the deal. “They are just-”

_“If I drop and somehow survive, you have to try and believe me when I say; I don't have a goddamn clue as to what's going on.”_

He tells the blunt but brutal truth.

“They are just going to hurt you. A. Lot”

Your body seizes as they plug in without mercy and he can only watch in horror at what happens next.

It's fuzzy behind the screen. The cloudy Plexiglas you're looking through is too thick and accumulated to properly watch the show that's playing. It's a horror montage that paints the scene of a hospital room, the floors are cracked, linoleum sharp and walls are splattered with blood stained brush strokes. A naked and scared patient is lying tightly secured to the operating table. The doctors coral around her in bloody scrubs and shark worthy smiles, cooing in laughter as they flick the needles and stab the veins. They scribble furiously at their charts with tar for ink.

You want to change the channel but can't reach for the remote. The doctor holds you down with dials for eyes and microphones for mouths. As he gargles on broken stalling gears you see sparks erupt down from within his open throat. Commentary runs in the background with Russian subtitles you can't read, Russian words that garble themselves to English and serrate into your earphones, slicing through the cotton like sponge and digging into your brain.

“As you can see Counsel-“New models are equipped with-!” “Your kind takes our lives on the battlefield not enough now-?!” Your own gray eyes stare back at the macabre horror show of murder. Your body being taken apart piece by piece.

You hold your breath, lungs expanding, stalling like the doctors own gears, freezing and choking. Robotic jerks and mechanical movements. A whimper breaks free and lights flash behind your tightly closed op(e)ti(y)cs(es). You don't remember going to sleep. The joint plating in your face splits open under the give of a scalpel. Pain races up your back, causing you to buck and convulse with metal bones that splinter from the force. The pain races and races, heading from the tip of your toes, up your blood vessels and through your muscles. It centers in on one point; a branding at the back of your neck and fans out to start the lap all over again; shocking, burning, electrocuting. You hear a judge screaming and slamming his grapple. 'Condemn her.' This isn't real anymore.

It strikes like a snake and sinks its fangs into your flesh. A face that's a visible horror of steel parts and pistons, a titanium skull of networking structure. Clockwork gears spring from their coils as poison acid erodes at the cogs, hissing and smoke. You hear a murmur of whispers and awe, disgusted horror and begging cries. Scribble, scribble, scribble on the clipboards that match a Geiger counter in tone.

'Lightning strikes my temples, thus.'

~~_And ero.des a..way th.e mach.i..ne.rrry~._ ~~

The fire burns the center of your chest and you smell your skin melting away. The smoke is sulfur and burns your eyes, catches them on fire. Have mercy, please.

“STOP IT!!!”

Give it all you've got.

~~_See how the brain plays aaarooounnnd~_ ~~

You thrash and turn in your cage, pulling and pushing at the bars and wires. You grip the fences and watch the ribbons pool from your hands before fluttering away into sparks and electrodes.

Handle...Function...Name...What. Is Your. Directive?

Alex, Nathan, Dakota, Cassidy, Fralicx, Destiney, Johnna, Tracy, Andrew, William, Ted, Michael, David, Sophie, Danny, Arin, Carmon, Kimberly. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. It's wrong. It's right. It matches. It's skewed. Some.One.Help.Me.

 **Understand.** Understand. Understand. What's going on inside? You're doing these things. You're not. **You** didn't know. _**You**_ do. You know, you didn't know you did. Did know...don't know-how...you got here...

How did you get here?

...How _did_ you get here?

You weren't here before. You have no memory. Have no memory of how you got here. What was going on? You can't remember, you can't remember but it's not there. Not there because it's NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. You were talking to someone, you were in the back of a truck. You were...you were...You were sleeping, **are** sleeping? No, you were awake but this isn't sleeping. This isn't awake. **A** fever dream that keeps changing and swirling. It pulls and push and you feel a tug, a sharp twitch of something that's not a part of you. You FEEL It.

The doctor laughs from his surgery; your ribs pulled back. Does he know? 'Doctor, I can't tell...if I'm not me.'

You give a groan, something is in your head. Something's in your head that's not suppose to be there, is there. Can't be. **Threat.** ening and deadly. Be there? What is in the static?

Get out.

GET OUT!!

Like a worm; a parasite rooting around and digging deeper and deeper where it didn't belong.

Find it.

Got to find it and pull it out. Squish the bug. Pull the weeds. Flush the venom and get back up. Get back to being you.

Your eyes roll back behind your skull, searching through the slipstream of-of brain cells, nerves endings flaring up in a mosaic light show. Glitching statistic, leading you in finding the cause. The Cause. The cause. The Cause.

A port lies in the back of your neck you didn't know was there before. A needle tapped in the brain stem, the spinal column, the heart. You feel it without feeling it. You grab it without grabbing it and THERE! Falling, falling, falling down.The.Rabbit.Hole.

~~ _(T)(h)(a)(t)(w)(a)(s)(n)(t)(t)(h)(e)(r)(e)(b)(e)(f)(o)(r)(e)..._ ~~

You screams echoes in the static as you unplug from your TV. Your eyes opening up to the bright flashes and sudden death of factory lights. The darkness strobes with sparks that erupt from the computers; an explosion in the glitch.

CONNECTION LOST! POWER OVERRIDE! VIRUS DETECTED! ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!!

System over heating, over powered, cc-criiiiit-t-t-t-iiiiicall-cal-call faaaail-ll-lu...re.

Your hands are scrambling to the back of your head. The links that tied you to the chair bend and break like foil against your strength. Your nails scratch. Your throat's raw from screaming that you don't remember.

You feel it without feeling it, grab it without grabbing it.

PULL!!!  
~~Pain...~~  
FREE!!!!!!

You drop back into the chair they had strapped you to. Wheezing gasps match the convulsions of your chest. The tears that run down your cheeks. It hurts, it hurts so much that it's numb, burned away at your nervous system.

Everything throbs with an unheard heartbeat. There's a heat in your chest, molten hot and only getting hotter. You look down at the burning and stare at the bright white light that lay in underneath your chest; a solar system of vessels and stars inside your very being. Snake skin camouflage, chameleon color changing, velvet gloves and clothes that aren't clothes. It's like a well tailored suit of a human being; peeling over crisply and ironed flat, hiding the skin that's not skin.

It's beautiful.

It's dark.

You turn off.

….

….

You can't recall if the wall is familiar or not; plain, white and simple. You focus on the fact that it's there and a solid support structure. Thank. God. For this wall. You blink slowly and flex your fingers from underneath the sheets. Your skin pulls tight and strong...

...Skin?

You pull back the covers slowly and look yourself over in dazed confusion. Your parts are covered, your plastic shell is coated in peach pale ~~(too pale)~~ skin. No blemishes, no freckles, no body hair or odd moles. You tilt your head and run your hand down your left leg, pinching and pulling. 'Too much,' your brain tells you to stop but you continue and watch in sick fascination as the seams give way. A rip forms, a tear in the mold. You give a huff, it was too good to be true.

Not skin.

Fabric?

When you let it go it slaps back to your leg like a rubber band, moves on its own and flexes; breathes. You stare as it forms a scale like pattern indenting before it shimmers over your newly made wound and dims back to some semblance of normal. The tear is gone.

You make a sour face.

Not normal.

With a sigh, you run your fingers through your hair and pull at the discovery. You have hair now. Did you have hair before? You frown in thought and tug, hard enough that the strands should have snapped, flesh should have gave but it remains strong. You give a hum and take back your hands to curl them into fists and back again, watching the skin pull and still mesmerized by how it looked.

What now?

You remain working your hands, feeling of your nails with the pads of your fingers and tug at the cuticles that never give. You bring your thumb to your mouth and attempt to chew at the hard surface, try to break it off but find you can't. Gripping the edge of the bed you force yourself up and swing your legs over the side to take all in.

This feels familiar. Where are you?

You look around, mentally checking off a list in your head. Counters, sheet, bed, stool. A Plexiglas doorway with something in motion behind. It's the only thing separating your dazed out consciousness from them; that and the mild brain damage you're apparently suffering from. You feel like an animal:caged:at the zoo. You watch them as your head feels numb and palm at your eyes. A hiss meets your ears, the clicking of heels on the floor, aimless chatter and conversation. It's all cut off after a second-the noise, the life, the drills of electric tools and demolition-no

'They're building.'

How do you know?

“How are you feeling?” You groan in reply and hear the clatter of plastic being set on the table, refuse to look from behind your fingers. “I need to apologize to you as well as ask a few questions.” You nod absentmindedly along with what's she saying, still not wanting to open your eyes. “Questions first. Do you know who I am?”

With a whimper you draw your hands back down your face and back to rest over the port on your neck. You fingers trace to find it, it's there right? Was it all a dream? As your tips glide over the indention's you remain numb to the knowledge of-yes; it's still there. You gaze in crestfallen daze at the tidy woman across from you. Sitting with her legs crossed over one another, the little stool makes her seem like a grown-up sitting in a kids chair.

She's a fancy lady in charge and in power. Hasn't got a clue what's coming and is innocent in the grand scheme of things...Did you? She's the one who ordered your execution. 'No, they were scared. You know why they did it. Every added up to you being a threat, Russia's at war with the Omnics and you popping out of no where looking like you do-'

You blink, once, twice and a third time before licking your dried lips and reply with carefully chosen words. Your slow drugged/drunk laced drawl carries on through the room. It's a side effect of whatever the hell they did.

“What happens if I say yes?” Because you do, you do know. You don't know how you know but it's the one thing in the emptiness that's within reach.

“Then I ask a different question.” You look her up and down, at her hands that she keeps on her lap. You flick your searching gaze for her little tool; the tablet, where was the recording? You heard plastic being sat down when she came in and look to the counter to see a tray of food; an apple, a sandwich, and a bottle of water.

“Your thingy's not here, Mrs. Katya?” It is an astute observation on your behalf, considering you're having trouble keeping your voice steady. Watching her shake her head makes yours ache, so you look at her nail polish instead. It's blue; a pretty shade really. She doesn't seem to shocked that you admit to knowing who she is.

“No...That won't be needed for us to have a simple 'civil' conversation.”

'Civil.' You hum, the action sends a vibration through your entire person. It bellows inside like a song from Notre Dame. “Do you know where you are?” Once more you pull at your lip and know your shaking from more than just the vibrations, things have started to catch up. You're standing in front of a metaphorical freight train unable to get out of it's way.

Fuck it, blow the whistle.

“Russia...I don't know what specific location...I'm in...Volskaya Industries?” Again, it's just another thing that you can reach. She takes a deep breath, tapping once on her knee with her index finger. It's a sign she's trying to be patient but you're just trying to keep calm in wondering who does her nails.

“Do you know why you are here?”

“At this exact moment? You-” Another shudder runs through you and knots up your throat. You wheeze and try to massage away the rocks in your cords, keep talking. You can do it. “A-Are...Are-ee you gonna p-put mee back in the chair ag-again?” You hear a coo from ahead, a soft whisper and steady sound that makes your shaking devolve to small twitches. You're panic is still a live wire ready to shock things into motion again. You look up at her face and see concern, apathy, the source of the noise is Katya whispering to you like one would a child.

You try your best not to flinch as she comes closer, taking your clenching fists into her hold. You can't feel how warm she is. You can't feel her stroke the back of your palm with her thumb, you can't feel it but it makes you feel so raw; like an open wound. “We are doing no such thing, not ever again.” You struggle to get her to let go, shifting yourself further back on the bed to press against the wall and stare in revulsion at how-...

“W-What the hell was that?” She was being nice all of a sudden? “Y-You have no right t-to pick apart my heeead an-an-and be nice after what-after all-” She her mouth turned down in a grimace, she sits back in her seat, pulling it back just a little as if to offer you more room.

“I understand, what we did to you was...” She sighs and brings up a hand to pinch at her eyes before letting go with a furious shake of her head. “As you said, completely irresponsible and inhumane. I am sorry, no...There is no justification for what I did, I can't even apologize to you because I certainly don't deserve it but you-”She gestures to you with a deep rushing breath.

“You are something we have never seen before. I don't know if you fully know this or ot but Russia is in a war against things like-...things that resemble you.” She chokes a hardened laugh of tension. “Or so we thought, you are no Omnic. Whatever you are is far more advanced than today's technology and that...That's as a bit more than what we are willing to accept.”

You bring up your knees to your chest and watch as her eyes give way to her emotions, conflict and amazement. The tone in her voice is completely flabbergasted as she tried to explain to you the reasoning behind the chair-that fucking torture device. Excuses; she's giving you excuses and you don't want to hear them but are too scared of the negative repercussions to stop her.

So without the guts to raise your voice Katya goes on, talking and forcing you to listen.

“I want to make a deal with you.” Oh no. No. No no no no no.

“Help us.”

...What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, if there is one thing I can write with absolute passion...It's pain. And not just the slap on the wrist, the character says 'ow.' But true...Genuine...Pain
> 
> >) Not five chapters in already I'm making our dear Reader hurt. Don't worry, I take pity on her Chapter Five. They plugged her in for information, odds are they had to have get something.
> 
> Leave a comment, also I have a tumblr! :)  
> http://worldsfool.tumblr.com/


	5. With A Side Of Salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, this story has reached over a thousand hits! AH!!! I cried when I saw. I really did. I am so happy that you all are enjoying this story so much! Won't be too long now that I'm taking less classes and will have more time to work on this, cause I already have it all (kinda) planned out and certain events already typed up and finally I enjoy writing again. I emotionally can't wait to post new chapters in excitement and anticipation of ya'lls reactions and it's wonderful because I haven't wanted to do this in a long time.
> 
> Depression sucks folks and for me to actually be excited to go to bed one night, wanting to spring up tomorrow so I can post a new chapter, read new comments, reply to kudos and followers.
> 
> It's...It's overwhelming because most days I just want to sleep and most days, I'm just so tired of being tired.
> 
> Thank you. Thank you all so much. Without further ado, I give you Chapter 5.

There is more nagging in the center of your thoughts, a memory that you know you can reach but right now it is further down on your to-do list. You are trying to have a 'civil' conversation with one of the most powerful figures in Russia and she just threw you the worlds sickest curve ball that smacks you right in the face and may as well have chipped a tooth. It takes fisting the sheets to keep yourself from propelling forward in an attempt to slap her. You tuck your chin in your collar in an effort to shove back the urge of bearing your teeth, mentally chiding yourself and taking deep breaths through your nose.

'Help us...' You snort in contempt. “Help you?” Another deep breath, your knuckles popping loudly as you forgo the sheets and grab the bed frame. “I may not remember much, ma'am, but I'm pretty sure it's a big faux-pas to ask the person you just tortured for FUCKING HELP!” The security system is suddenly alert and active at the raise of your voice. You could care even less about it right now, glaring at Katya with a scornful hatred that warranted the defense.

“You just...You think you can get in my head, cynically dissect me for hours and then think we can be all buddy-buddy? Give me one good god damn reason I should even-I just-” You roar in battle against your willingness to strangle her and focus on the results it would have. The guns were already on you but dammit she just willingly came in to the cell and is trying to talk to you. She knows your angry but doesn't move for the door, either trusting the defense system enough to protect her or possibly trusting you enough to attack. It's the latter that is keeping you contained, right now.

She could have very well brought her own gun. Fuck, she could have just taken you apart overnight or kept you bound to that godforsaken torture device but she didn't. Here you were in the 'flesh' and still 'breathing.' That's got to count for something, right? That's the only reason you're holding yourself back right now. You didn't want to become the enemy they thought you were. You weren't. You weren't going to be.

You shake your head and spit at her. Resigning yourself to curse language and hateful/wrathful stares and snarls. “Lady, if this is some kind of test you may wanna give me more practice time.” You take another deep breath, try to relax your grip on the abused frame that had gave so easily under your frustration. It would be easy to hurt her right now; childs-play even. A punch to the face might just as well take her head off and you bite your lip hard enough to force back the terribly appealing imagery.

In the span of seconds that you've been having this internal struggle she remains cool; sitting straight in her seat and watching for you to make a move, Her viper eyes are half-lid and face blank in betraying the fear you know is still there, underneath all that pretending and powerful persona. She was good. Damn, she was good. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of snapping, knowing that it's what she's still expecting; what everyone is still expecting.

You let your shoulders momentarily hang loose, try again to relax and get yourself out of a murderous mind-frame. With still being so disconnected from who you really are, it would be a little disturbing at you how easily it was to imagine killing her but you have a fucking excuse. She'd be considering the same thing if she was in your position, _everyone_ would want to do the same thing. She doesn't have the right to ask you for anything and even if she did, you don't want to hear it.

The rooms silence is broken only by your hard breathing. The security drones make small mechanical whirls that trail your every twitch and movement. You focus on the wires hissing, the metal bending, the soft shifting of the gunpowder in their casings with each little jerk the automatons make. The footsteps outside are in a multitude of paces. The construction work is coming nicely. You hear fingers on keyboards and snow being crunched outside. You ears could very will pick up the individual dilation of a flies compound eyes. Another reminder of how this 'you' was all make believe to what you really were.

She tentatively pokes the mad dog, baits it with meat and taps a single nail steadily on her knee. “I understand your anger-”

“You really don't.”

She lets her lip pull in a firm line at the statement. “But please, listen carefully. While I am in no position to ask you of any favors I have no choice. This is from on high; the UN is curious about you and it is best to play along with them.” UN, no choice-'my hands are tied' bullshit.

“I've been 'playing along' this entire time and I''m getting god damn tired of the results it's giving me.” She nods slowly, as if in understanding. It makes you want to break something. She doesn't understand and unless she somehow switches consciousness with you, she never will. The bed frame gives a small steel squeak as your grip redoubles.

“If I tell you what we've found out about you, would it at least encourage you to listen?” You purse your lips, calling her bluff.

“You're lying. You don't know a thing about me and if I don't know anything than neither do you!” She gives an almost gentle shake of her head and once more you're seeing red. You reach out, releasing the now unrecognizable piece of frame and grab your pillow, quickly pulling it close and using it as an anchor. “I don't want to hear it, I want you to leave before I do something you don't want me to do.”

You don't watch as she gets up from her chair, don't listen to her heals clop the floor or get curious as you hear plastic being popped. “Catch.”

At her order, your hand instantly flies up; vision catching motion just out the peripherals. The bottle of water is almost pulled into your hand, like a magnet with a metal object when in reality; it was just a good catch. You didn't even have to look up in order to have caught it; your freak-show of a body just knew where it was going to land. The small but otherworldly like motion causes you to twist off the cap in frantic hurry, trying to ignore what you had just did and just fucking take a sip of water for gods sake's.

Upon contact with the water to your tongue you moan at the unexpected event that unfolds inside your mouth.

It's...Actually cool. You can actually feel the chill of the iced water as it makes contact and sloshes around the inner membranes of your mouth. It's...Heavenly. It kicks your anger to the side and fills you with unbelievable relief that; Holy Crap you can actually feel something physically. It's so nice and cold and as you swallow, it chills down the inside of your throat and settles so naturally in your stomach (you have a stomach!) A whine breaks out your mouth over the liquid and causes some to spill down your chin, but you can't feel that. You can only feel what's inside. It has you lowering the bottle and look to the heavens in mercy. Tears sting the corner of your eyes and your labored breathing is now from more than just anger.

It was already too much to begin with. Now, it was starting to break you.

“Externally you are numb to everything. The only kind of sensation that you are able to acquire is from anything that can effect you internally.” You reward her with an absentminded nod, suddenly in rapt attention for whatever she had to say. “This, of course, involves the temperature of anything you digest, be it hot or cold. The pain you would feel from be stabbed by anything thick or strong enough to force through your exterior skin-” You hear her shuffle and return to her seat but still refusing to look at her.

Her tone pitches up from normal. It starts to get some resemblance of excitement. “That's another thing. Your fame is made entirely up of a highly flexible transparent and density shifting alimina.” You don't care. You do care. Aggravation starts to show its head again as Katya begins to sound more and more enthused, her flip flopped mood-swing was threatening to get her hurt.

'Whatever you do, make sure that bottle of water stays in your hand. DO. NOT. THROW. ANYTHING. AT. HER!' You try to steady yourself, pausing between mouthing at the lid of the bottle to muster a comment.

“...What's alimina?”

“It's a metal that is three times stronger than steel and can match diamond in terms of cut. It's almost impossible to work with, much less make a complex shape out of but your practically hard carved out of it.” The news echos in your mind over the screaming. You don't want to feel happy about this. You don't want to even consider that the chair had been worth something. 'No torture is worth this information.' There must have been some other way they could have learned about you that didn't have to involve that pain.

She starts to steadily sound more and more like a kid at Christmas and it boils the once cold water in the stomach with acid that fires in your belly.

“While the metal is not naturally able to shift its way of density, your shell seems almost as though it's alive and thinking. When we put a kni-” She drawls at the word and you stand from your seat, ignoring the guns and her sudden wide eyes. Good, she's scared.

She should be if she's implying what you think.

“You need to leave.” Not, 'she should leave.' Not, 'she may want to leave.' She needs to leave if she wants to remain unharmed and breathing.

“I-I sorry, I didn't mean we-” Shut up, shut up and get out! I don't want to hurt you but if you keep talking I will, I will do something so stupid and make myself the enemy I don't want to be. I don't want to be the bad guy you think I am. I'm not the bad guy you think I am. “Y-You were already unconscious so we didn't think-” You stomp a foot down. It cuts off her stammering with a loud and sharp CRACK! through the room as the tiles under your force branch off in a vein of fractures.

You lick your dried lips with a sense of heavily maintained calm, fists shaking at your sides, the water bottle clutched and wastes its spilling contents on the broken tile. Your voice sounds absolute over the loud train whistle that rings through your person, contact with an immovable object sends its carts off the rails and thousands are dead with only two survivors.

“Now.” Unwavering, soft but firm. A calm before the storm.

And she stands in a hurry to get out, keeping her front facing you as she backs to the door and swipes her key with a glance over her shoulder. At the hiss of her retreat you stand in numbness to the knowing that, he-haha...Hahaha!

They really did 'cynically dissect' you.

In your mournful, cyanide laced laughter you let the busted bottle fall from your hand and softly pad over to the counter. From the plastic tray of food you pick up the bright red apple and imagine how its succulent juices would have tasted in your mouth, what euphoria you would have experienced as the blissful bites would send your tongue into an orgasm of flavorful sensations. It would never come to be however, as you crushed the succulent fruit within the palm of your hand and watch as its meat breaks into chucks so easily under your intent.

You grab the tray and slam it over the counter, causing the platter to break in half and break again and again, to crumble away under your force and anger before you toss its remains to the side. Slamming your arms down again and again against the table before its bent divots gave away under your force, breaks off as a solid rip of metal from its father piece. You grab the chair and throw it against the opposite wall, watching it turn into pieces after making contact with the panel and forces it cave inwards from the trauma. You rip the mattress from its frame and in doing so pull frame from the wall in a shout of “GODAMMIT!!!!” The firing of machine-guns falls mute to the sirens of ambulances in your heads, bringing you back to the good old doctor with dials for eyes. Metal casings bounce off your body in a chorus of metallic music before crescendo's with the hollow clicking of empty rounds. A normal person would be dead.

YOU'RE NOT NORMAL!!!

You tear the curtains off as easily as ripping paper and freeze at the reflection standing in the mirror centered just behind the toilet. It would have been the next innocent victim of your rage if you had not seen your angry and determined figure.

It's....It's you....But it's not you.

Your gray eyes are glassy and full of tears but its camera lenses are unfocused from focusing on anything but your next target. You hands shake at your sides, fingers releasing the tattered remains of the curtain and letting it pool at your feet that no longer show signs of spring locks and bolts. Your long legs and thighs are shapely against the sweatpants that now no longer fit loose but just right on your thick hips. Your flat bust that creases against the hugging shirt, gives the remains of a cello figure despite your somewhat thin waist.

It's your face that leaves you breathless, already draining what ragged breaths you take in rage. How shocking it is in comparison to the gears and transparent metal you had seen before. Stepping closer to the mirror you open your mouth to see white teeth ~~(plastic, too real.)~~ You lips are a soft pink and thin but cute. Tears cascade down your soft baby cheeks and leaves tracks over your pale 'skin.' Your earlobes just barely peek out from Shirley Temple curls. No longer do you see speakers of headphones but actual ears for which to hear with.

And boy do you hear.

You hear the chatter of a crowd behind your 'sound proof' door and whispers of how they should have dismantled you when they had the chance, how they should have shut you down and hung you up as a trophy, used your skeleton for blue prints in combating this new tactic of Omnic warfare.

…

So, why didn't they?

Slowly, you lower yourself off your feet, resting on your knees before turning over on your side and curling in the fetal position. You lay with your hand brought under your head in some semblance of comfort and simply stare off into nothing, surrendering yourself over to the depression that sweeps you up like a eldrich boogeyman. Your fire died down to smolders and clouds of rain loomed overhead. Your actions start to catch up to you and considering the damage you had done in your fit of rage you force yourself to say a few words. You know they can hear you through the barrier and reinstate.

“I'm still not your enemy...But you did a damn good job at making me want to be.”

Piers watches with pity behind the glass, holding out a steady hand for Katya as maintained a studied cool while leaving the room, her facade shattered once in the safe zone;hand on her chest and face torn in a mix between despair and selfishness. Although offering to be her anchor he gives her a sour look. “I told you this was a bad idea.” He should have been the one to talk to you, not her. He counted his stars though, the only reason they had even informed him of the fact you were awake was because even the CEO acknowledged what little relationship the two of you had.

Three days, you had been out for three days. The second security camera's picked up your movement they had been informed and plan 'apology' had been put into action. A lot of good it was doing.

It had been disastrous; a freak moment of nature that even scared the Omnictologist into fleeing. He had held firm at his place beside you and could only watch as your convulsed with aneurysms and cramps of pain that forced you to bend and twist unnaturally against the bindings. He got to see your veins and mechanics light up as they probed into your head for all the secrets you were hiding. He got to hear as your voice cracked and choked with tears and harsh cries of torture.

He got to see and so did all those in meeting on the second floor-peering through the glass dome overhead. He was well aware what the meeting consisted of; UN members, military captains, Omnic specialists. He said they weren't ready, nobody was ready for the ~~(un)~~ expected way you reacted. They were expecting a droid static laced dial tone that would fizz out into a systematic stream of ones and zeros. They weren't expecting your human screams or sorrow, weren't expecting you to beg them to stop and plead for mercy. They weren't expecting your chest to flash like a super nova showing them all the invisible fleshy parts within you, buried deep under the metal and machine.

A heartbeat sounds and pulsates with each and every shooting star that coursed through you. Nobody was expecting the snakeskin to shudder over you from your head to your toes. Nobody was expecting the thick coat of human that was draped over you like a kind of well tailored suit. Hair grew from your head in rapid time, fingernails sprouted from the tips of your fingers. It acted like a kind of cloaking mechanism and for a moment he forgot that you weren't the enemy. It was at that moment that sparks erupted from the outlets, computer screens flickering as they were burned from the inside out. Never mind the sudden discovery of your human skin camouflage, he watched in horror as warning signs blared left and right.

The power circulated between being on and offline. He smelt smoke, heard burning and tried to support you, tried to give some kind of aid to you with a hand on your jerking shoulder. He shouted, your body temperature matching that of hot lava metal, whatever was on you and acting as flesh was melting, reforming, and melting again. It was grotesque, something out of horror movies and made him turn his head and throw up. Scientists clung to their keyboards in hopes of finding what was wrong and orders from above UN members were screaming.

“Stop it! Unplug her!” This was a mistake. They weren't ready for this. They weren't prepared for something this human!

He looked back to the screens and stared in trepidation as the words bled in red capital font.

READING ERROR....READING ERR...OR. RE...DI..ER..OR...

It only got worse after that. He wasn't allowed to see it but he knew what came next. The United Nations filed you underneath World Secrets, would tape your folder in red and keep it under lock and key, just like everyone who had interacted with you before and after the torture. They were being paid to keep quiet now, keep their mouths shut and turn a blind eye as they ordered 'Open her up.' If they couldn't learn anything mentally, they would have to do it physically. The only relief he felt was that after the forceful shut down and destruction you caused their servers you had fell into a state of coma.

He shakes his head, brought back from his thoughts by the most pathetic sob in all of Russia. While you certainly didn't show any after effects of physical pain since waking, it was all too noticeable of your metal battle and that was more than enough for him to nudge Katya's arm off him in disgust.

“This room got a speaker button?” She gives a nod and points without looking to the keypad control panel, centered in the door. It doesn't take long for him to find button one he wants and carefully make his announcement in what he considered his 'father voice.'

“Reider?” He takes your lack of reaction as a sign to continue and momentarily forget himself. Of course, you don't react...That still wasn't your name. No, that wasn't your name but you needed something. You needed to hear some good news, needed encouragement that everything was going to be okay. He doesn't want to say it was for the greater good but they had learned something...You needed to know, not the means of how they achieved the knowledge but _what_ knowledge they achieved in finding.

He had said that the two of you were close enough for nicknames, this seemed to be the best one to give you. “You're name is Reider. It was all over the computers before you blew our systems to bits.” He bites his lip at how easy it was to bend the truth, how terrible the real truth had actually been. The casualness of his tone was to bring you comfort and there as no pretending that it was easy to talk to you. He glanced to Katya and studied her forlorn expression, how she watched the two of you interact with a kind of mourning.

She truly was sympathetic but he still felt a kind of rage for how she stood back and allowed such an...inhuman ordered to be carried out on you. Yes, he understood that it was her job, that she was in the same situation hew as in when it came to power and how loud their voice could be heard but she could have at least fought back a bit.

“Look, I know you're upset. You have every right to be.” He starts, licking his lips when your shoulders only continued to shudder in crying heaves. If he didn't do this right than you'd go for the door. It would eventually get to the point you wouldn't have much room left to destroy and move outwards towards them.

He hoped the others noticed over their shock and terror. Hope, they saw what he did when you hadn't made the move to hurt Katya. When you had tried your hardest to contain your anger and even told her when it was dangerous. You could have...Should have...Didn't.

“What we did to you was wrong, inhumane and unforgivable...I don't expect you to listen to us. I don't expect you to want anything to do with us at this point and that's fine.” He takes a breath. “But our hands are tied.” He looks over his shoulder to the man who had arrived shortly after your...interrogation.

That man was a lawyer. The very one you had requested when they first brought you in and now that the UN was taking your case more seriously they had been _so kind_ as to provide. He holds back his disgust with the idea that it was more than likely a play at getting you to sell your soul. You wanted defense but this man was only here on attack, waiting for your word before you would be subjected to legal blackmail.

“The truth of the matter is; we really do need your help. You know how I said that we're at war with Omnics...Well...That war is steadily getting worse and worse and it's not just in Russia. Places all over the world that were once thought to be safe from this are being attacked by the same forces we're facing.” He takes a hopeful breath when he sees you shift and roll over to look at them. He searched the pad for another button, giving you a sad smile when he finds the one that would allow you to see through the fog and haze in the glass.

You remained without expression until he gave a small wave of his hand, a pleading gesture that you slowly...Slowly returned with a twitch of your fingers. Your eyes, although shining with tears, were bleak and dark.

“And if we don't come up with something soon...Then it's only going to get worse.”

“Why should I care?” At last, you speak. Your voice was cracked and made his heart joke but his moment relief is set aside to continue reasoning with you. .

“Because you're the only one of your kind. As far as we know, there is only one you.” He takes another chance and looks at Katya for her second opinion. There was still so much he couldn't tell you without her say and it frustrated him. Earning a nod of her head he continues talking while on his tiptoes. “But if we're not careful, it may not stay that way for long. If we don't try and learn all we can about you, while we can...It...It might not just be you anymore.” Your sorrow turns into another glare, into another, more painful expression of fear.

“And that gives you the right to cut me open!? That's suppose to make it okay that you preform brain surgery on me?! Are you gonna put me back in the chair!?” Quickly, he shakes his head as the accusations and enunciates

“No. We. Are. Not.” There's shuffling from behind him, signs that many of his comrades would have liked to. “Do you want to know why?” You glare again in challenge. “Because you, everything that is you, is too advanced for our computers, for our technology, for us, that you completely fried the mainstream.”

“Do you understand that?”

“You are too much for today's technology to handle, to even try to handle. Everything we learned about you we learned on a physical point. Yes, we did do some terrible thing to learn about you but that's just it...We learned about you. We learned about you because we had to. We needed to, because there are some serious chances that there may already be more of you out in the world that we don't know of, that we can't know of.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and praying for a cigarette after this. “Now it's about more than just the fact that you express and cry like a human. You can eat and drink, and react like a human...Now, you even look human. You can walk into a room and nobody would know the threat that you could bring. You could be among crowds with a bomb under your coat and people would simply see another person going about there day. ”

“The suspicion of Rogue Omnics is what keeps us on our toes around regular ones. There are cases today of Omnic's not previously thought to be Rogues suddenly turning into Droids in the middle of shopping at malls. As racist as it is, this stereotyping is what keeps us on our toes and ready for any kind of attack because were expecting it, we have to.”

“But if there are already other models like you on the streets, our backs are completely open. We would be so focused on the Omnics already so obvious in front of us that we wouldn't notice if a neighbor was to go missing and be replaced by copy. What if an Omnic like you was to become a police officer and we wouldn't think twice because of how human they look, how normal they seem?” He gives a disbelieving cough. “Hell, imagine if one such Omnic was to run for president. What if he got elected, what if he pressed the big button and threw us all into nuclear war?”

He sets his eyes back on you, having looked to the ground to try and steady himself from the serious scenarios that played through his head. You had sat up, at some point came closer and were now sitting with your legs to your chest and chin resting on your knees. He made sure to keep your gaze as he recited his next statement. “You understand, right? This threat could very well be hiding under our noses and we wouldn't know the worst of it until it happens. This could destroy mankind.”

You stare, still and nonreactive and that's terrifying for a moment before you sigh. An expression of deep thought furrowed your brows and made your lips draw a line.

He holds his breath, as does the rest of the group, as does Katya, as does the unknowing world.

When you open your eyes, your lips twitch in a coy smile and he sees a flash of something taunting in your eyes.

“What's in it for me?”

...He laughs, he laughs while everyone else murmurs and backs away with hisses of distrust and encouragement of sending you through a chipper. He shakes his head in disregard to them all, how you still managed to try and stay in control of yourself and your situation, despite the little temper tantrum you had thrown not minutes ago.

“The more we learn about you, Reider. The more you learn about yourself...We still have a little bit more we discovered about you...If you want to listen?”

You nod your head with a mute 'uh huh.'

Katya hands him something, her tablet. He pulls up the holopad with your information and reads over the words with fascination in his voice. “We discovered that; while you can if you want to, you don't need to eat or drink. Your body functions off of a kind of energy source in your chest. We don't know what it is but we think it's some kind of Omnic energy.” He takes time to tap on the glass for your attention and points to his chest. “It's your heart, Reider. You have an actual beating heart. Granted, it's locked away in some kind of box we can't even touch without getting burnt but it's there.” He smiles at you, Katya nodding beside him and interrupts. He expects her to get excited again and cause a repeat of rage but she keeps herself level.

“This means that by modern criteria; you're alive, Reider. It is why we are trying to negotiate with you. The moment we discovered that you had a functioning heart, a humanist in the UN stepped up and ordered the shut down of...surgical methods. It took some arguing and while most party was in favor of continuing your previous treatment...The board declared you too conscious for us to...experiment on.

That seemed to do it, seemed to drive you down from compromising territory and devolve back into what reminded him of Sasha. Your sniffling laughter is a chorus of stressful but relieved hiccups and mucus filling sobs. You lift your hand to press at your still over flooding eyes and whip at the snot that drools from your nose. It was a gross sight but he laughs with you.

He goes on to tell you about how you have lungs you need to breath with. How every light in your body is all connected to an actual brain-stem. How the casing of your head protects, not just a super computer the likes they've never seen, but an actual brain like organ. He tells you of the technicalities of your bladder, how if you eat you'll have to release. How, while your physically closer to a woman in terms of sexual identity, you lack a womb. Physically, they estimate your body to be modeled within the age range of early twenties to early thirties. He tells you of how your frame practically shifts between squishy and firm, how they still don't know what causes this.

He tells you what they still don't know. He tells you that while you have skin, they don't know what caused it to form. He tells you that while you're still somewhat mechanical inside, they still don't know where machine starts and organics end. He tells you that they still have no idea as to your purpose or mission. He tells you that they can only guess about personal information other than your name.

He makes a deal with you.

He slowly moves out of the way as Katya approaches. “I know you may not want to talk to her. But Katya has something she wishes to say.” He knows there's hope when you return her sorrowful look of apology with one of your testing own.

'Pool's open, the water's fine.'

She clears her throat. “Outside of Russia there is a reforming group of extraordinary people, with the skills and advantage technology that surpass today's standards...One of their members is a technological genius. He had a penchant for discovery and a drive to help make the world a better place.” She takes a moment to give you a steadily growing, genuine smile of token peace. “With your permission...I would like to contact him about your situation and I am sure if I explain, he would be more than willing to take you in and help us discover more about you.”

You search her gaze. A stubborn voice in your head is whispering 'don't listen to them, they're lying.' The doctor is back with a shrapnel smile, it makes you want to gag at the fear that lodges like a dagger in your back. “W-Why...Just...make this clear to me. If your boss wasn't telling you that you had to do this. Why would you help me?”

The next comment takes your breath away. Now at just how harsh the truth is but how...Kind? It has you gripping the bottle and blinking at her owlishly with slack-jaw. It's just a complete 180 of your treatment from before and...“Because I refuse to believe that the Omnium is capable of putting this much time-this much care and love into one single creation for it to just hand over and let us torture.”

Fuck...Fucking shit.

You weren't going to say yes because 'the world needs you.' You could care less about The World; it certainly wasn't doing anything good for you lately, chances were it wouldn't do anything for you to save it either. You were saying yes because you're selfish and want to learn more. Again the chair comes to mind and you reach back to finger the port in the back of your neck, swallowing the stomach acid that forces its way up your throat at the looming but possible threat.

Was it worth it?

After learning all of this, was it worth it? Would it be worth it? All this truly was, was an exchange of torture methods and captors in pretty sugar coated words. The only difference between being in the frying pan and in the oven was whether or not you were gonna turn out to be a burnt pancake or fallen souffle.

Upon realizing that these analogies were getting away from you, you give a solemn nod of your head. 'I mean really...What choice did you have?'

The lawyer you had requested gave a scribble on his holopad and rewards Katya with a thumbs up before he paces away to file the agreement. It was a means to an end, the manipulation would keep going, even if they'd have tried to stop. You don't wonder about their exchange, having no idea who the guy was and instead look back to your decimated room.

You temper-tantrum had rendered the place unlivable and you hang your head in shame.

“Um...Sorry about the room.” Deja vu.

She gives a relieved sigh, probably glad to be done and over with all this negotiation shit and earns you a shake of the head. “We have others.” Oh, that's comforting to know. It is because as she waves all the other soldiers away, only she, Piers and a still present Zarya remained. “May I have your word that you will not attack between letting you out and moving you to a different cell?” You nod your head, giving a stern.

“Yes, ma'am.”

You stand to your feet and exit the destroyed cell with a sigh, walking straight past Katya, carefully sidling past Zarya and come up to stand in front of Piers.

The man who's been nothing but honest and kind.

He stares down at you with curious expectation at your approach and gives a warm smile. You wrap your arms around his chest and rest your cheek on his shoulder; giving him (earning yourself) a gentle hug. He seems surprised, you hear a gasp from the pink haired woman to your left and ignore her in favor of memorizing the comfort that comes when Piers returns the gestured with his own. No, you can't feel his arms around you but it's warming inside to know they are there. Katya clears her throat as Zarya looks away with a 'tsk' and you happily release your friend, feeling much better.

You needed a hug.

“Follow, please.” And you do, wanting to cry for the millionth time today as Piers and Zarya do not lift a single gun or shove you roughly in the back. Your 'cage' had been second floor to the construction zone of anti-omnic bots. You were to have the perfect view of the up an coming...-

“While we are to treat you with a bit more care from now on we still are to keep you under strict valiance until such a time that the UN gives more orders. There is still arguing going on about how to address you. That having been said, whether or not you would have agreed to willfully support us, you will continue to be monitored twenty four seven.” You nod your head along with the obvious and study your new room. It's an exact copy from your old one if not for the furniture layout being flip flopped.

“I get it, still a possible hazard, top priority. I'd monitor me too.” You say as you give Piers another hug and tip your head to Zarya. You calmly step into the room and turn in expectancy for the door to shut.

“It won't be until Overwatch either accepts and comes for you or with an member of staff that you will be permitted to leave this facility...Much less this room.” Your eyes widened as a note vibrates in your head, a sense of familiarity that has you revealing in a state between realization and emptiness.

Overwatch.

...Overwatch...

Ooooveerrwatch.

That sounded so familiar... You give a groan and press the meant of your hand to your temple. Something was there, it's just like before it's the forefront of your memory and glowing like a firefly, just flickering and waiting for you to catch it.

You can catch it. Just sneak up on it. You can remember this. It's. Right. There.

“Reider?”

You jerk, momentarily forgetting where you were. A wheeze is knocked from your chest when you feel the thought blink away, probably never to be seen or reached for again. 'No, you'll feel it again. It'll come back, just be patient.'

You puff out a deep sigh and look back to the woman with a forced smile. “S'okay. Just...Tired is all.”

She gives a nod of her head, tablet flicked in her hand before allowing a curious look. “I'm willing to make an accommodation or two.”

“Can I see talk to Piers once in a while?” The man gives a flattered chuckle and smiles at you.

“If you would like, I can arrange it. He is still a soldier however and I would have to ask his Commanding Officer first so...no promises.” You give a nod. Her word that she'll try is enough. “So, now that everything is wrapped up. I must get back to work. Do you have any other requests that you would like to put in?”

You look yourself over one more and eye at your clothes. “A pair of jeans?” And looks at the bland room. “Maybe something to read? I get that there's some sort of Omnic Crisis going on back other than that I really don't know what else is going on in the world.” She nods her head and with one last smile, shut the door on you. As you watch her leave, give Piers a small wave, that just left you with Zarya who crossed her arms and remained in place.

You stare with her, tilting your head to the side in an effort to look innocent. Some forgotten part of you knew that she was here to pass a final judgment. She takes a deep breath, chest rising heavy before it falls with a small shake of her head. She kind of rolls her eyes as if to say 'I can't fucking believe this,' and pressed a button the the doors console before your clear view outside the glass is fogged away.

Once again, you ~~'albeit a bit more carefully for this beds first time'~~ lay down on the bed and grabbing one end of the sheet, turn over to fully wrap yourself up. Whether or not, you could or had to sleep, it was nice to just let yourself turn off and fade to black.


	6. Infiltration/Occupy The Cafeteria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we can get underway with some canon plot. For those of you curious our character's name; Reider is pronounced like Reader. Most of you already got that and I thought that what I did was cleaver with the whole Reading Error thing.
> 
> I am excited to see what you all think of this chapter and be sure to let me know in the comments. Whether it be theories of who Reider is. Mistakes you may have caught. Idea's you may have about the upcoming chapters or if you just want to gush and say you can't leave more kudos, gimme them comments. I am genuinely curious about what you all think. I know Reader-Inserts aren't well received by most people so it's good to know what I could be doing better.
> 
> I may (this is without certainty) maaaaay think about writing a story other than this Reader-Insert but I need some ideas. I want to do something with R76 because that's one of my most favorite ships but by all means if any of you have any idea's you want read, throw them my way on Tumblr. Or even better, send me some sentence starters and I'll see what I can do. I am finished with school now (for this semester) and have more free time available. I will also be heading for Florida soon with my grandmother so more free time!

Thinking on it, you don't really consider this sleeping; it remind you of more like floating. In the dark sea of your subconscious, your mind flows to and fro in a limbo of un-thought thoughts. Through the lucidity of it, you're uncertain over whether what your experiencing is real or not. The waves rock your cradle like a mother would her babe and washes you ashore with a sense of calm and warmth. It is a nice and somewhat terrifying feeling to drift in and out, the world rotates and turns on its axis, leaving you without a sense of direction.

You briefly imagine a computer in rest mode and decide that it's the best thing to compare this sensation to. You're not sleeping; you're offline. The screen is black and waiting for the jiggle of a mouse, the touch of a touch pad or press of a key to blink back to life and request: Please enter your password. Password accepted. Welcome back. You wonder just how much you can perceive outside of this state and tune in your ears beyond the void for any signs of outside life. It's like turning a dial on a radio, finding the right frequency of a station in order to hear the music clearly. Almost as a result of the imagery you can suddenly hear the lapping of waves and the shifting of sand grains on the banks of the shore. A crab scuttles on by, clicking its pincers at your beached form and settles on crawling over your chest, getting louder and louder with each click and tap.

'Something about this isn't right.' You hear guards talking among themselves about shifts and work hours. The click of mechanics in motion and welding tool shrieking against metal. Heels click against linoleum, pens scratch at clipboards. There is a conference above you. There is storage work below you. Outside, snow is falling and coats the ground with a thin white sheet of ice, all is quiet for a brief moment.

It's the interrupting sound of a gun being loaded that kicks you awake. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of your familiar room and on instinct you search for anything out of place. You see a magazine on the counter across from your bed, a sign that Kayta or Piers had visited you in your sleep to deposit the requested reading material. This does not relieve you of your out of place panic. You sit up in bed, swinging your legs over and marking your mental checklist. Counter, bathroom, stool, sheets, active and monitoring security system. One of these things doesn't belong here.

You lock your gaze with the watching camera, wondering why the single droid is the only one active despite the many that lay underneath the paneling. Its lens focuses on your form, camera zooming and shutter dilating at your movements. You make a face at the stalking and roll your shoulders.

...Someone was watching you on the other side of the video feed and you had a gut feeling it wasn't Katya.

There is a strange heaviness that weighs on your body. You can't feel it but you _feel_ a tingle running down the back of your neck, racing further down your spine and back up again. There's a static in the air that has your hair standing on end and teeth grinding. You don't know what it is but you were certain that something was about to happen.

Something you knew was about to happen. Like how a cat knows when it's going to rain. Like how birds know why to fly south for the winter.

You look at the camera and raise a brow at how it was acting. Whoever was on the other end of it seemed to be controlling it remotely, causing it to bob up and down as if to get your attention on the door below it. You stand up and quietly make your way over, cautiously watching the loaded gun in case of a sudden attack. When you get close enough, you glance at the control panel on the door and feel your eyes widen as you see a single green light blink on, followed by the sound of a soft hiss. It can only mean one thing.

She unlocked the door for you...

The recollection of something forgotten causes a chain reaction of vague proportions. The dam holding back your memories springs a leak and before something can fix it, you latch on the piece of past that drains out. Intuition speaks up as its workers plaster over the hole. 'Don't leave yet.' You weren't planning on it. Rationally; with things as they were right now and what was about to happen, if you left the cell right now there was no telling what the UN would do to you as a result.

That wasn't the underlining reason for why you were hesitating though. You try to cup the water but more leaks between your fingers. Eventually, you would be left empty handed. You groan and press a palm to your eye, trying to remember more. It was...wrong for you to get involved in the things to come. You don't remember why but you do know that you're not suppose to be here. Here as in; the situation you are in, the place you are in. It still didn't make any sense, who is the person behind the security camera and how do you know her? How do you know that she's a she to begin with? How do you know about what was going to happen? How did you know it IS going to happen?

'You're already involved enough as it is.' What the fuck was that suppose to mean? The little angel on your shoulder whispers gently. 'Don't do anything. Don't look at anybody. Don't talk to anybody. As a matter of fact, why don't you get back in bed? This room is suppose to be soundproof after-all, just sleep off the commotion. Nobody will suspect.' Then the devil shows up, pitchfork and barbed tail. 'Wrong, they may very well blame you for what's about to come. They'll put you back in the chair. They'll go back to labeling you as the enemy.'

You groan and press your back against the door. If you do nothing and play ignorant then they'll eat you alive again, come back for seconds. You shudder at the thought of another autopsy and rub your arms. It was an attack that was going to happen, right? You look back at the drone, see it's still watching you and turn your head down with a sigh. Even if you did get involved, which you shouldn't, you still don't know how to fight. How much help could you possibly be in the scheme of things? That excuse is thrown out the door as you bring up a hand and flex your fingers.

Recalling the events from the room next door you bite at the skin of your lip. 'That's right, just because you don't know how to fight doesn't mean you're weak.' You didn't need to know how to throw a punch to do some damage. It had been so easy to destroy that room, so easy to dent a table without meaning to and snap a pair of futuristic energy cuffs that-how do you even break energy?

Looking down the barrel at it it seemed that if you didn't do something, chances were the whole upcoming mess would be blamed on you. ~~(BACK ON THE CUTTING BOARD)~~ If you helped though...Even just attempt to help, everyone may trust you more, allow more freedom. Or maybe, MAYBE you really did have something to do with this. You look back to the security camera and put on a sour look.

How else would you know the person behind the camera? Why else would they be helping you?

You don't have time to think much more on it, the sound of steel cables pulling and the elevator in motion marks the start of things to come. You give the control panel another glance to see that the light is still green and turn back to look out the door, pursing your lips. The glass of the door is still hazy and too thick to see through. Getting an idea, you look at the camera and hesitantly ask out loud. “Can you clear the glass?” You're not sure if she can hear you so you gesture between your eyes and the door in a game of charades. Either method gives you the results you desire, the clouds parting and allowing you to see the construction zone relatively clearer from yesterday.

You let a relieved sigh when you see Katya just below your platform and past the railings protecting it. She stands below with her hands laced behind her back, following a gentleman as he rants on and on about the gesturing Mechs. You don't care enough to tune in to what he's saying, sensing that you already knew what it was about.

“The inspection.” Important, important, important. You stand on the tip of your toes when your eyes zoom in on a man seated in the middle of one of the large machines. His limbs are braced by metal clasps that allows him to move and pilot the Mech, putting on a show for the CEO responsible for the project. You briefly wonder about the mechanics of the craft and how it's operated, in your own sort of awe as you watch the display of power.

Compared to the bulky frame of the machine, you had looked much more sleek in design and-something clicks in your head. How you bent the table, destroyed the room. Yeah, confirming your previous perceptions of yourself, you're certainly not helpless.

'I could bend that thing like foil...' The thought solidifies in your head just how justifiable this made Katya's actions towards you seem. Piers had truly laid it out for you as a nice neat picture of just how serious they were about fighting the 'Omnic Threat.' “You understand, right? This threat could very well be hiding under our very noses and we wouldn't know the worst of it until it happens.” His voice and worries echos with ominous undertone. He was right, you already knew the kind of danger you possessed and right now you were the 'good guy.' You imagined what would happen if some...replica of you got out with much more sinister intent.

For all you knew though, you could still be the enemy and the Omnium was just waiting to flip a switch. You mentally curse yourself and reconsider stepping in. You already said that what these people did was inexcusable no matter the reasoning, just because you 'agreed' to their little peace treaty didn't mean you forgave them, it didn't mean you had to help them. Actually, you were almost certain that you were scared for life when it came to doctors and needles. At the resulting shudder that ran down your spine from the thought, you confirmed that yes; you definitely received some mental scars.

It again boiled down to whether or not you helped Katya and the others during the attack. If there was even going to be an attack.

'There IS going to be an attack.' Fuck you brain, you don't know that for certain. Prove it or I do nothing.

A single shot rings out; one you know will miss and suddenly, everything goes red. The lights of your room dim down, the dark only briefly illuminated by the flashing yellow and red lights outside. Alarms are blaring and you jump from toe to toe as guards go rushing by> Shutters go rolling down. Emergency exits open up. 'It's time, this is happening.'

'STEP BACK AND DON'T GET INVOLVED!!'

“But I can help!” You say to yourself. 'Stick to the plan!' What plan, playing stupid? You hiss at the pain that laced through your head, memories that were and weren't there getting shuffled and jumbled and what do you know? What don't you know? How do you know? Don't do anything! Don't get involved!

The shifting of sand grains on the beach, the tapping of a crab as it crawls, the click of pinches that sound so much like heels on the pavement.

A shotgun fires.

Reaper. Sombra. Windowmaker. Talon. Overwatch.

The whiplash leaves you staggering and breathless as memories flare to life like solar fire, bright and burning, lighting the dark emptiness in your mind. You clutch your temples with a hiss as electric pain spreads from behind your eyes and down your back, searing through your nervous system and causing your spine to jerk as though snapped with a rubber band.

You are in Russia, it is the day of Mech Inspection where Talon agents will attempt to assassinate Katya Volskaya but things will go wrong and they will be forced to improvise.

After the sudden recollection the pain dies down into a dull throb, still vibrating throughout your body that leaves you with a slight itch of new found energy. You sway on your feet and set a hand on the door to get your bearings, stepping forward when you see a familiar face nearby, stationed just in front of your cell as if to protect you. Piers is armed with his SMG, shooting down past the railings to the floor below and whoever had infiltrated the base. Just over his shoulder you can see his target and nothing in the world could have compared you for what you saw.

Much like a sudden sandstorm, a cloud of black blows through the construction site. Grains click and shift against each other with graceful movement, almost as if caught in a breeze but the flow was too smooth, the turns were too sharp. In a cloud of velvet smoke he materializes with the inhuman decibel of nanites stitching him back to form; cell by cell. Out the corner of your eye you see the other surrounding soldiers start to falter. You hear fireworks go off over and over and feel your breathing stop when you make the connection that those fireworks your hearing are shotgun blasts and those soldiers are mostly going to die.

Your heart-rate picks up substantially as you watch a guard recoil back; he's been hit and he tries to catch himself on the railing but loses a grip he put too much into, he falls over, hitting the ground below with a thud. Your hands shake against the door as you lock your gaze on the man or woman's unmoving form, silently pleading that they get back to their feet. When then remain motionless you look away, anywhere else.

'You just watched someone die...' You didn't know them, didn't know what they stood for or if they had family. People live, people die. It's the natural order of things. The thoughts do little to calm you down, they make it worse. 'Shit...This is real.' You don't know why that scares you. Of course, it's real; why wouldn't it be?

A scream tears through your throat as contact is made against your door, vibrating the glass against your hands. You watch as Piers sagging form slips down the surface and goes still as his bottom touches the ground. You hear white noise, everything else bleeds out into the background as you watch your friends unresponsive body remain motionless.

You count down from five.

That was all she wrote.

You find yourself slamming your hand down on the security panel, ignoring the mechanical hiss as the ballistic paneling parted and quickly slid underneath to catch your friend as the opened door could no longer support him.

He's wearing a vest, resulting in the lack of blood but there is major damage in the Kevlar. He gives no reaction when you attempt to rouse him and you expect the worse as you attempt to feel for a pulse. There is a steady vibration under your hands but it's not enough, it could be your nerves. 'Right, you can't feel.' You press your head to his chest and listen. At the sound of a steady heartbeat you release a manic laugh of relief. He's alive. Thank god, he's alive. Maybe with a mild concussion but alive.

You readjust him to laying up against the nearby wall and try to keep your hands from fumbling as you take 'BORROW' his gun. Your minds made up, it's personal now. Realizing you have no idea how to use an SMG you shake your head at the thought and figure; it can't be that hard to shoot; just point and pull the trigger. It was the reloading that you would have trouble with and that was fine, all you needed to do was make your shots count and you wouldn't have to reload.

Putting the breaks on your train of thought you look at yourself, what you're doing and come to the decision that; Holy shit, you were really going to do this, weren't you? But then you considered, why were you attempting to fight? You didn't need to fight. Reaper wouldn't win this match, the Mech would take him out. All you needed to do was make sure Katya get's to her office. 'But she will get to her office.' She'd get there safely, Sombra would blackmail her, and then they would all leave. You didn't need to do anything. Why were you even here? You weren't suppose to be here!

The commotion of metallic crash wrecks your thinking and forces you to look over the railing. Against the wall below is a broken and spark scrap of metal; what remains from the Mech that Reaper had been fighting not seconds ago. It's metal frame is damaged with dents, splits in the structure and tears in the panel. 'A shotgun did all that?' No, a super soldier did all that, as you see fist sized bends in the model. The man who had been piloting the machine was bleeding out through a shotgun sizes hole in his chest. His eyes are wide and glassy, almost staring right into you pleading for help as his soul steps through death's door. Piers had gotten lucky, this man had gotten point blank shell to the chest.

Yes, you were doing this. Fuck the script, you were helping. Your hands shake as you find the small switch, the safety of the gun, and find that it's already switched off; one less step. Swallowing your nerve, the rock that appeared in your throat settles heavy in your stomach and you get to your feet. You rush the railing with a war cry jumping over the banisters to fall down and land solid on the lower level. You catch sight of him just seconds away from dissolving back into his wraith form, center your aim on him and fire a round of bullets into what you really hoped was his back.

The results are instantaneous, he gives a roar from the unexpected volley and whips in your direction, forcing that rock in your stomach straight back up into your throat. 'Don't throw up, don't throw up. Don't scream and don't throw up.' He's truly the face of death, a menacing mercenary that stands in all black with his bone white mask fixed as a symbol that every enemy or target he had come across, was just another tally on his death count. You could only guess at just how many of the soldiers in this facility he had killed, how many people he put down shot for shot; dodging gunfire expertly in a haze of smoke and ghost movements. Your almost certain that your own bullets didn't make any contact, that they could have only just phased through him. It must have done something though, enough to get his attention and...Yeah...

You got his attention...As terrifying as that was for you...Good.

You know for a fact that he shouldn't have won that fight against the Mech. At least, not that soon. It should have taken him the entire mission to put that thing under but instead he did it in less than a few minutes. This had the potential to change things. Sombra had to get to Katya, she had to blackmail the woman before she would call the mission off. 'If he catches up with them, there's no telling what will happen. They might go through with the plan to just kill her. Windowmaker might call for reinforcements, hell might come down and get involved herself.' Three against one wasn't fair, you've already bit off more than you can chew. 'I can't let that happen.'

You hold back the shudder of terror that races down your spine as Reaper slowly tilts his head to the side, a loud sounding pop from his neck makes you want to faint. So bad-ass, so terrifying. He held himself with menacing purpose; shotguns out in each hand and shoulder's squared. You watch as the former Blackwatch Commander sizes you up and try to take the chance to fire again but you CAN'T. MOVE.

It's too quiet, what happened to the other soldiers? You threaten a glance to the guard you had seen just minutes before and come to the idea that they were all possibly dead now...That or fled, dick move but you can understand that.

“You're no soldier.” Oh no.

His voice is laced with well handled rage and a menacing baritone that makes your knees shake from more than just nerves. Shit. Fuck. He sounds so...You can't think of the word but it's doing things to your body that is DOES NOT need to be doing. You're almost certain that you're about to piss yourself and stammer for a retort. He was talking to you, say something.

No idea for a shit one liner reply, you fire at him again. Your finger finally clutches the trigger and sends a small wave of bullets. He doesn't even move, just lets the bullets ghost right though him, leaving streaks of smoke as they phase past and solidifying once again just how 'fucked' you were. As his body restitches itself back together from the quick change of density Reaper returns your attack with his own, blasting a single round from both of his guns. Your eyes widened when you see the sparks and heat recoil off the barrels of Hellfire, just how powerful the blast was and feel your knees lock at the worse possible time.

'Don't freeze, move, move, move, move, move, move!!!' And you panic skips a step, Your eyes widen at the sight of pellets souring through the air and spreading apart further and further, inch by inch was they get closer to you. You can see it, SEE IT!!

Like some kind of Matrix movie slow motion effect, just without the slow motion.

'MOVE!!!' Your body yanks itself away from the oncoming danger, how you avoid tripping is a miracle by itself and you quickly retrain your sights back on your opponent. Newly discovering that your The One, you , you feel a bit more confident with your chances of surviving this encoun-

Shit! You yelp as you see a fist come rushing out just at the side of your eyes. Ducking, you draw up your gun to fire at the black mass forming beside you and stagger away to find some kind of cover. 'This was stupid, this was a poor decision. He's gonna make scrap metal out of you.' You're going up against a god damn veteran in guerrilla warfare what the FUCK made you think THIS was AN OKAY THING TO DO?!

He hurt Piers.

'Do you really think, Piers would do the same thing for you?' Probably not but you still liked him, he was still nice to you. Hell, you had half a mind to believe that he stood up for you at some point during all this bullshit. With a frustrated growl you ran behind some nearby crates and tried to come up with SOME KIND of strategy to draw this fight out as long as needed. Wracking your brain, you ran from cover to cover, firing sparingly to keep the mercenary's attention on you. It was working, he seemed to have accepted your challenge and was staying put to fight you. The fact gave you at least some kind of hope that you were doing alright. He could have very well ignored you and moved on but no, apparently he considered you enough of a threat or loose end to stay and try to take you out.

You heard shots being fired that were not your own and fell short of power compared to Reapers. Looking up at the floor above you saw more soldier had come or returned for backup, those still fit to fight were stepping back into the fray, covering your back...Backing you up. Satisfied with the fact that they're not shooting at you, you show a smile and make to move for another available cover position.

Only to come face to face with a still pissed off and ready to fire Reaper. Giving a scream, you can't stop yourself from bumping into him, shrieking as he threatens to slam his gun over your head. You duck, weaving away from an arm that makes to wrap around your neck. You back step and duck again from another swing of his gun, gasping when he levels the aim of his second shotgun straight at your face. Your eyes widen as you stare down the barrel and on instinct you throw out your shoulder, bending at the knees and dodging below his sights before digging your feet into the ground and throwing yourself towards him will all your strength. In the split second, he pulls the trigger, the slugs just scraping over the top of your skull and you swear you could feel the heat from the blast.

You both grunt when the force of your shoulder makes contact with his chest, sending him back and you with him as you push all your weight into this one shove. You draw up your gun, reflexively pressing the muzzle to his chest and pulled the trigger. A tear works out your eye at the solid click of an empty cartridge, as your only remaining resort you whip your gun up, knocking him hard under the chin and steady yourself as he goes tumbling back into a forklift behind him.

The gunfire from above ceases and you hear a clatter to your left. Glancing over you see that a kindly soldier from above was nice enough to drop you some ammo. Reach down, you swipe it from the floor and explore your gun, fumbling until you manage to somehow make the empty magazine fall from its cradle and replace it with the new one. You rack the gun and look back up to the soldier as a means to ask 'did I do it right?'

You hear demonic laughter come from across you and quickly retrain your sights back on the mercenary who stands to his feet. God, you can't stop shaking. That was too close! You were just millimeters away from having your face blow off if you hadn't off ducked...

“You have no idea how to properly use that, do you?” Reaper gestures to the gun in your hand, which you make a show in keeping pointed at him. “Give it up kid, you obviously have no idea what your up against. I'll warn you again, you're not a soldier and these guards around you are second rate, at best.” What, that first time was a warning? You give a huff and shift on your feet, spreading your legs a little further out for balance. Hold you position, hold your ground, 'Hold your tongue.'

“Tough talk coming from the guy back against the wall.” You didn't say that. You did not just say that.

He laughs once again and you mentally make out your will as his legs begin to dissipate into black smog beneath him.

“Oh, you honestly think you have the advantage?”

Warning flares are firing in your head, you scramble to get away from his evaporating form and make for something to hide behind, anything! Common sense and video game logic dictate that when a bad guy says shit like this it means get out of the way or kiss your ass goodbye. You eyes catch his mist like form sweeping across the hanger like a phantom in the night, circling like a vulture above its dinner. Your comrades are firing, wasting ammo on him in a form where it would do no good.

Your eyes widen as his ghost stops circling just above the center of the room and drops down. His black aura sweeps out across the floor in a spiral, unfolding and blooming inwards, outwards, and upwards in a kind tornado like spout. You heart seizes in your chest when you see red heat forming in the middle of the funnel, a booming command of certainty roaring from within.

“DIE!” You yelp at the concrete under your footfalls split and splinter from ballistic impact. “DIE!!” A man from above gives a loud scream and you force your head straight as you dive behind the legs of an unmanned Mech. “DIE!!!!” You cry as the metal against your form vibrates as bullets ricochet from place to place, the storm does not let up. The men above are screaming, dropping like flies. You need to do something, anything!

But what can you do? He said it himself; you're no soldier. You shouldn't have been here in the first place.

You shouldn't be here.

What can you do?

The gears in your head start to turn, you glance around for some kind of inspiration, something; anything! He wasn't suppose to win against the Mech! He wasn't suppose to win! You press your forehead against the metal limb and give out a sob of despair. Then you stagger back as the structure starts to lean forward under your weight.

Eyes widening an idea forms, you take a quick glance out from your hiding place and retreat when you realize just where your situated. From where you are behind this machine, Reaper is in the middle of the field. Mind made up you take a deep breath of encouragement. It might not do anything but goddammit you don't know, it might could work! You step back away from the mechanical masterpiece, mentally apologizing to Kayta and press your shoulder against the Mech's leg. 'Time to find out how strong I really am.'

If you thought for certain that you could bend one of these metal machines, you sure as hell were certain you could push one over. At the force of your weight the structure gives slightly and you can't hold back the devil ass grin. It was easy, it was SO easy.

You take a deep breath and throw your gun over your shoulder, the strap keeping it secured to hang. With your hands free, you cross your arms carefully against your chest and take a few steps back, giving Reaper one more glance to see the mist of his Ultimate slowly coming to a calm.

It was now or never.

You take another deep breath, praying this would at least hurt him. You stagger further back and then run towards the Mech's leg, grunting as you make contact and send the machine teetering down towards the mercenary. It hits the ground with an eruption of metallic groans and crash, steel vibrating off of concrete and shrieking through the facility.

You stand there, in silence and awe at the destruction you single-handedly caused. The clouded debris from both the collision of the Mech hitting the ground and Reapers leftover mist hangs near the floor and with no tornado of death or death himself present you can only give out a disbelieving laugh, the celebratory cheers of you and remaining surviving allies rings true

You did it.

...

'FUCK, SHIT! You weren't suppose to win! What if you killed him?! What if you messed things up?! What if you fucked everything over and Sombra actually killed Katya?! Shit, what if Widowmaker REALLY DOES call for reinforcements!?! Oh god! You just killed one of your favorite characters!'

In your mental panic, you don't notice the wisps of black materialize from out under the Mech. You don't notice the cloud rapidly growing in form in front of you. You don't notice the shotgun muzzle press against your chest until a series of loud shots rings through your ears and causes you to seize.

All bodily functions come to a grinding halt as a painful warmth blooms from within and spills out from inside. Your lips part in a pathetic croak as you lock gaze with the murderous amber's glaring through the eye holes of an owl skull shaped mask.

You stagger back as a gulping gasps come out of your mouth. There's a kind of fluid that washes up your throat and forces you to cough; probably blood. Your shirt has been ripped away from the gunfire and your flesh is melting under the heat of the bullets. Everything is numb and you can't tell if it's the normal kind of numbness or if you're dying.

But...You remain still on your feet. The silence of bullet rain and short lived cheers turned horror is broken only by your sounds of wheezing. It doesn't hurt to breath, it doesn't hurt to move. Blinking in confusion you lift a hand and press it against your chest, gripping the 'fabric' of your suit and ripping it off to reveal the mechanics at work.

You hear Reaper give a shocked sound, not a gasp but definitely something taken back and surprised by your appearance. Revealing your casing, the bullets that should have torn through you like paper instead are locked within your transparent shell, stasis in the alloy that makes YOU. Your chest should have been burst open from point blank exposure but instead the clear metal bends and gives in such way that appears like chewed rubber.

“What the hell are you?” Yes. Exactly. That.

IN your silent shock and confusion you bring a hand up to the liquid that has dribbled down your chin and take back your fingers to see a clear sheen. It looks like your tears, it looks like water...It dawns on you that it may very well be the water you had drank before.

Then, as if just now catching up, the warmth inside triples into searing heat. What pain you should have been feeling now blooms forth, as your damaged casing moves-breathes-spanning outwards to press against the suspended buckshot and slowly pushes the pellets out. With each gasping breath you take, they're pried further and further out of your chest, until one by one they drop and clatter to the floor. It hurts, it hurts as much as getting shot should hurt.

Oh.

There's the pain of dying.

You screams are mute as you curl inwards, your throat locking and vocal cords strain to hold back your cries as your body flexed in places it shouldn't. Click, click, click. You watch in agony as more dark bits of buckshot hit the floor and your legs give out after the fifth tap. As the sixth and last comes loose, your chest is returned to its previous state before injury, as if you had never been shot to begin with. Your breathing is strained, body running with fevered tremors that you can't stop. Your eyes are so heavy and you can't tell if it's by some after-effect of whatever your body just did or the shock that you're in from plunging headlong into a fight you had no business being apart of. You don't bother looking up when you hear another click of a reloaded shotgun. Whining pathetically as you wait for Reaper to pull the trigger that he had oh so wonderfully pressed against the center of your forehead.

You briefly wondered if your body would be capable of healing your blasted skull in the same fashion that it had just displayed. How much would it hurt then? What was keeping Reaper from pulling the trigger? You hazard a peak and stare at his tempted form, blinking slowly in a way that was almost drunk. You half tempted to goad him on, tell him to get it over with. It can't be any worse then the pain you've already been through-Can't be any worse than being Plugged In.

You hear a mechanical shudder and look towards the source of the noise to see the door of the garage slowly opening, the flaring red lights of alert blinking steadily before going out. The lights of the facility come back on, flick after flick. You bring your attention back to Reaper, noticing that he has taken a step back and another and another. He tilts his head to the side with an irritated growl, a whisper you hear from under his breath.

'Get back to the ship.' He looks back at you and refocuses his aim. You flinch at the sound of an empty click, the barrel empty, his bluff handed out. He drops the shotgun, letting it clatter at his feet before turning towards the door. His form wraiths away in the softest of sighs, leaving you and everyone else left alive in the room, suspended in disbelief.

That was it?

He just...Left?

...

You did. it.

Oh my god, you actually did it!

Falling back to lay on the floor you laugh through the pain at your fool-heart success.

You kept him busy long enough for the exchange to go through. Had any of that would of happened if you didn't, you don't know...You don't know and at the moment you don't care.

You shake your head in exhaustion at the repeating enigma. What did you know? Because really, it's getting to the point that you're having arguments with yourself out-loud. You need a notebook...A diary or something to keep track of your memories. You considered asking Katya for some paper and force yourself to sit up against your body's protest.

Katya! Just because Talon was retreating that didn't mean they didn't kill Katya. They could very well be leaving because they succeeded. You groan as you get back to your unsteady feet and briefly looked up to the soldier's still silent and in shock. You snap your fingers, clap your hands to get their attention. “Shouldn't you be looking after the injured or filing a report or something?!” At your statement many of them scrambled off, you could have sworn you heard an affirmative 'yes ma'am' or two.

You needed to check on Katya, needed to make sure that all of this wasn't pointless. A groan escapes your throat as you fold an arm over your stomach and wince at the sudden cramps. Taking a hazy step forward you about leap out of your skin when your foot makes contact with Reaper's abandoned gun. Half expecting it to turn to dust, you swoop down and carefully pick it up. Turning it over in your hand you raise a brow at the sterling silver that reflected so beautifully against the black body and sound a complimenting hum before you stuff the muzzle into the side of your arm.

'This is mine now.'

Your legs are heavy as lead when you walk up the staircase that leads back to the second floor. You find Piers just where you left him and sigh loudly in relief when you see other survivors checking him over for injury. You turn and head down the nearest hall, looking for some kind of directions or map. Katya's office was on the top floor right? Where are the stairs?

You turn a corner and run into the last person you wanted to see.

Zarya glares your soul into Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to wait until I was done with the Reference Sheet of Reider before posting this...But I got too excited and left you waiting for too long. I can tell you that they are coming along wonderfully, I just want to make sure they look right. Sketches were good enough to use a base for but I can't use any other paint program besides MS Paint. :( 
> 
> Don't worry though, they will be done by next chapter!


	7. That's A Relief...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this was a long chapter to write and believe me it could have been longer but I felt that it was going on for long enough. Didn't want it too cramp. I was very particular about some details near the end of this scene, an exploration of Reider's body. It is not really an intimate scene but if you are uncomfortable about girl parts than kudo's cause Reider is uncomfortable about girl parts. Does she have them, does she not have them? Either or, she doesn't feel or comfortable about it right now.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait for an update folks, been busy lately (*coughPersona5cough*) and I may be a bit busy still (*coughPersona5insertcough*) and am still working on that wonderful reference sheet of Reider without her 'skin suit.' It will be out with next chapter, I can promise you. Just please be patient with me as MSPaint is a program that I put a lot of patience in, that and I just now found a design that fits what I want from Reider.
> 
> And now, enjoy.

****

You seemed to have misjudged the amount of energy that the fight had taken out of you.

Mother Russia herself stands tall in front of you, baring her teeth. In a few short seconds, the scene plays out like this; she locks target on the gun you hold under your arm and rips it away from you in a lightning flash jerk, grabbing your arm as the action itself pulls you forward. She spins you, roughly pressing you face first into the nearest wall and before you know it, she has both of your arms bent behind your back. The angle would be painful if you could feel anything overall the overwhelming sense of nausea that bubbles forth from the quick, breakneck pace.

Her voice is muffled in your ears, like how it should have been behind the soundproof glass of your cell.

“Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!” Charlie Brown adult blabber 'Wah wah, wah wah wah wah.' You take labored pants, your vision swimming and going blurry as you try your best to fight off the tremors that shoot down your spine and let gravity take the reigns.

You stir back to life at the sound of damage reports and accusations. Faking sleep you peek from under your lashes to get a feel for your situation. What happened? Did you pass out? Where are you? You're laying back on a couch, facing the plain ceiling and take a peak to the doorway nearby to see two soldier stationed at either side of the exit, armed to kill but hands folded behind their backs in a mock fashion. You're certain to believe that there are two more guards on the other side of the door, serving in the same state and keeping a watchful eye out for anything that would remain suspicious. It was likely that every important room in the facility would have more surveillance out, the Institute on high alert and ready for a returning fire. You briefly wonder just how many casualties there were, how many people had gotten hurt while you fought Reaper.

“She was armed.” Zarya's voice is booming, playing the obvious blame game while you had been unconscious. You slowly turn your head to look at her, blinded by the sunlight that invaded the windows behind her, eclipsing the woman to appear as a looming and dark silhouette.

“Video footage shows her helping our troops during the attack.” Eyes adjusting you look across from Zarya to see Miss, Katya seated at her desk, fingers laced atop the mahogany table and work area decorated with papers, folders, books and a laptop open and ready. You know of the single picture frame on her desk to house a photo of her and her daughter but don't have the energy to further question the out of place tidbit of useless information.

Hellfire has been confiscated and held for evidence just across from her, metal catching the sun and reflecting it somewhere in the room.

“Her door was unlocked. Whoever got into our systems opened it for her. She had to of been working with them. You saw on the security feed, she gestured to the camera!” This argument seems to have been going on for a while, how long were you out? Zarya is angry, working against you and trying to prove herself right without any consideration on your behalf. Her distrust of Omnics playing a large role in her distaste for you.

Katya on the other hand continues to sing your praises in a tune so insulting to the woman she had once been towards you. “She put her life on the line, in front of injured and intimidated men, as well as for those in the construction crew that were able to flee.”

“You said it yourself, after what we've done to her she should have no reason to want to help us.” It's at this moment you come to life. Leaning up in your improvised bed and throwing your legs to the side; the action putting a pin the two's argument long enough for them to watch you get settled. You lean back in your seat, the motions of quickly sitting up causes your environment to shift and rotate for a brief moment before it stills. Your head pounds like a drum and your stomach does flips. You feel sick, can you even get sick?

You try to put the disagreements to rest and gesture to Zarya. “She's right.” The woman raises a single brow, surprised that you would agree with her. You set a hand on your stomach and brush your bangs aside with the other. “You're both right.” You take a deep breath through your nose and exhale out your mouth. A dry feeling caused you tongue to go heavy, a sour taste has you rubbing the roof of your mouth and swallow.

Locking your gaze with Zarya, you begin to explain. “Despite coming to deal with you guys about your treatment of me, that doesn't change the fact that you've been holding me hostage and have tortured me. While the change in attitude recently is nice, your past actions are a perfectly reasonable excuse for why I shouldn't _want_  to help you.” The pink haired soldier crossed her arms, hip cocked to the side in a display for you to continue.

You level her with a piercing stare and add, “But I did...So, why don't you tell me what you think happened?” She scrunches her nose, lips tugging in a scowl before her anger flairs and she points.

“I believe that you called the attack.” You blink wearily at the statement and take another deep breath and attempt at massaging away the throb at your frontal lobe. Her statement may be hostile but you had little doubt that she was being honest with her thoughts. You reminded yourself that this woman was only trying to keep her people, friends and family safe from a potential threat; you. Hell, you yourself were still not certain that you were on their side or not, much less, neutral to anything that was going on.

Sombra had opened your door; why? Did she know you? You know HER face but have never met face to face that you can recall. You know Widowmaker but haven't seen her. You know Reaper but what USED to be under the mask. Being honest with yourself, there was actually a high possibility that you did call the attack but then you remember; no, you were not defining a factor in this. The attack would have happened with or without you present. You don't know how you know but you know that much for certain. Now, how to explain that to the two woman without saying something to make you seem more guilty? You needed to be careful with your words and your headache and foggy feeling wasn't helping you to think clearly.

“I have been locked in a cell, with no means of communication or contact with the outside.” You slowly explain, licking your dry lips and finally recognize the strange sensation in your mouth; you were thirsty. You look to the coffee table resting across from your place on the couch and see a wonderful bottle of water waiting for you. Quickly, you grab the drink and twist off the cap, you wanted to pace yourself but the second the opening of the bottle touched your lips, you emptied it in a matter of seconds.

The relief is instant, a cold wave in your stomach and suddenly your dawned to how difficult it had been to breath. A soreness that you hadn't noticed before started to seep away with each gulp and your headache faded faster than it came. You know the cause for the sickness was the 'regeneration' of your gunshot wounds but has it really taken that much out of you? How were you even capable of such a thing?

Wiping your mouth with your arm you continue, lost in the sensation of a thirsted pallet. “How do you suppose I called for the attack, Miss Zarya?” You chose your words carefully, it showed. Your speech was slow but refined with a calm that could be considered a little dangerous to a lawyer or judge. You sounded like a principle at school, weakening a misbehaving student's resolve by sweetening the deal with 'just tell me what you did wrong and I promise, you won't be in trouble.' Really, this situation should have been in reverse, these woman had more power over you and yet you can't tell if they're letting you turn the tables or if you're just naturally gifted at doing so.

Zarya adds point,“Broadcast.” You raise a brow, humming in consideration. Yeah, that would actually make sense. You still don't know the full extent of what your body was capable of, what all was in and out of you but somebody did, or at least; a little bit. You give a glance at Katya with a serious look in your eyes. Did she know about the regeneration. You had heard her say something about video, perhaps she saw your newly discovered ability.

“You preformed a physical and autopsy on me in my sleep, right?” She slowly nods her head, guilt flashing across her face at the reminder of the cold fact. “Did you discover anything like that? Do I have a transmitter in me that picks up free WIFI and can connect wireless to the internet?” You throw a hand up, rotating your wrist. “Would I be able to somehow send out a radio transmission or SOS, with or without knowing it?”

A thought passes by at how cool that would be if you could but right now, you were being dead serious. If Zarya was going to be so judgmental without a full story than it would only make it seem okay for more people to do the same, you've had enough of it already. Katya already lightened up but Zarya had the voices of many, brothers and sisters in the military that looked up to her and her words, that outweighed the voices of few. If she wasn't going to follow suit or at least TRY to tolerate you, than it was more than likely that the two of you would eventually get in a fight and that was the last thing that you needed to happen.

As the CEO shakes her head in denial to your questions, you send your own look back to Zarya, seeing her clenching her jaw and hands in a kind of unspoken rage. You sigh, and place the empty bottle between your legs to toss later. Scooting forward in your seat, you sit up straight as you began telling your side of the story.

“I don't know if the cage you're keeping me in is soundproof or not but I just recently discovered that I can hear a pin drop from outside, probably miles away if I wanted to. My ears honed on gunshots, it's what woke me up. I don't know if it's something that was programmed into me or if was my own instinct or whatever you want to call it but I woke up.” You hold up a finger when Zarya gave a disbelieving cough. Katya was sitting behind her desk, quickly pressing keys on her computer, probably typing your comment down. The information you were offering was apparently something she had not known before and was cataloged for reference. That, or she was creating some kind of sworn statement for you to sign, you don't know how things worked here so, you wouldn't be surprised.

“Yes, the door was unlocked.” You acknowledged Zarya's previous comment. “Whoever was on the other side of the security monitors was the one who unlocked it for me.” You idly play with the cap of your bottle, turning it this way and that in a nervous tick. “I don't know who, I don't know why, I don't even know if they were an enemy or not. But they unlocked the door, cleared the window for me so I could see and I made my decision from there.”

“You could have run.” You nodded, lifting your shoulders for emphasis of casualness.

“Yeah, I could have but where would I have gone? I don't recall a home or family. I'm not sure if I even have one. I don't know any more about the state of the world other than what's been told to me and to be honest...The thought actually didn't cross my mind at the time.” You grip the bottle, biting the inside of your lip as visions of Piers unconscious body flashes to the front of your mind. You had been so scared for the worst, the man could have died. Through the short time you had known him, Piers seemed so genuine with you. He was the first one to even try and help you get a sense about things and the idea of being without some kind of friend left you feeling scared and hopeless.“But...That attacker had hurt one of my friends and I wasn't going to let him get away with that.” Friend, you said it aloud and confirmed. Yes, Pier's was your friend and you had attempted to kill for him.

“I borrowed a gun, jumped down and fought as best as I could. The attacker kept saying that I 'wasn't a soldier' and he was right.” You slump back in your seat, once more locking eyes with Zarya with challenge. “If I was actually built for war or infiltration or something, like you seem to believe I am, wouldn't you think I would know how to properly hold and fire a gun? That maybe it would be hard programmed into me?” You shake your head.

“I can say without a doubt that had no idea what I was doing down there, but I just knew that I couldn't let him hurt anymore people...So, I improvised, I held out and held on until some kind of backup came but the attacker retreated. I don't know why he did, considering at the time he was kicking my ass. So, I just assumed the worst and figured he must have accomplished what he came to do.” As far as you were suppose to know, there was only Reaper. You hadn't seen Sombra or Widowmaker, although you knew they were there but you weren't meant to be privy to that.

Katya clears her throat, brushing back a bang that had came lose from her ponytail.“The damage that was caused is going to cost us a few hundred thousand rubles.” The statement of property damage causes you to pull a sour face and consider. You guessed that as the founder and ruler of a company like this one, she had to keep in mind of the costs and yeah, the net worth of the place may have gone down and stocks must have plummet...

“What's a few thousands compared to the lives of a few good men and women?” The statement was a metaphorical punch to Zarya's pride, right in the selfish feels. You could swear that you almost saw her stagger in place as Katya had taken to stare at you with wide eyes. A sense of shock fills the room and your a little proud of yourself for the small silence you had caused.

You wondered, just how often they'd heard a 'killing machine' say _that_.

“So, where did you get this?” You look down at Hellfire, watching as the CEO picked up the shotgun and turned it over in her hand. Again you became entranced with the details of the silver etched within the handle and middle of the gun. You don't know what the parts are called but damn if they weren't pretty.

“The guy I was fighting dropped it. The thing looks fancy and I wanted to keep it.” Honesty is a powerful drug and causes Zarya to sigh out loud. It wasn't as heated as before and the fight seemed to be draining from her after your previous comment.

“You would honestly think we'd let you keep a loaded gun?” You smile a her: cock-sure and a little smart-ass.

“It's not loaded.”

Katya pinches her nose at her hear her mumble something her patience being tested. “Still though, why would you want to keep it?” She asks and you groan, growing tired of the questions.

“Is it too much to ask for a little reward? Maybe some kind of pat on the back? Because I just went up against a guy who could turn into a swirling vortex of death and I'd like something to show for it.” Katya stands from her seat in such a furious manner that it shakes the wood. The mahogany groans on her rough treatment and sends your mind reeling from the sudden display of aggression. Shit, had you said something you shouldn't have? You didn't say Reaper's name did you? You ran back over the conversation and pull a blank, a panic brain stall that causes you to choke.

“What did you say he could do?” Oh crap, crap. They were gonna put you back in the chair. They were gonna rip you open again. Your shoulders shake as you bite your lip and try to stifle the pathetic whimper wanting to break free. You legs tense in the decision of fight or flight and you were doomed either way. Under her stare you shrink and start to stammer as your stomach does flops that the water couldn't stop.

“I...He..He turned into smoke...I couldn't do anything...He turned into a tower of black smoke and just kept shooting and...” You close your eyes. Now, you hear the sound of a soldiers skull crack as he hits the ground. You saw men and women fall back with shotgun wounds to the chest. You saw Piers fall back against your cell door, before sliding down and going still. No, you didn't need this right now. You did everything you could for them.

You take broken breath and bring you hands up to your eyes, covering them in hopes of fighting back the tears threatening to form. God, what if this time they did something worse? What if they hooked you up to some kind of battery and fried you from the inside out? You imagine an electric chair, some futuristic torture device and your mind goes crazy as you assume the worst. “I-I'm sorry...I tired to help but I'm not a solider. I should have stayed in my cell but if I did I was scared you were gonna blame me for everything or that say that I should have done something!” The nerves started to tickle, your lungs hiccup with manic laughter; panicked laughter that loses against PTSD. Shit, shit, shit. “Please don't be angry. I'm sorry.”

“He broke one of your machines and I thought I was the next best thing so I just reacted...He-He was just...” You just want to curl up and die. You'd rather die than go back in that chair. You look up with wide eyes at Katya and see pity befall her. Glancing to Zarya you notice her turned away with her hands on her hips, head down. Katya makes to move around her desk, approaching you calmly and gently she sets a hand on your quivering shoulders. You whole body was shaking and you couldn't stop. You bite your lip hard enough that you could have bled, SHOULD have bled.

“It's alright, Reider.” A name you were still not used to; a name that brought a sense of calm over you even though it still didn't feel right. “I'm not blaming you for this. Neither is Zarya. Things are just too convenient and we are trying to make sense of it. You settle for staring at the tattered remains of your shirt and poke your chest through the holes in the fabric, visualizing how the shells were locked in place within you, stuck and forced out.

“He shot me...” You were ~~not~~  fine. The motherly woman gives out a sound of curiosity and confusion, you shake your head in response. “It just...It happened so fast...Suddenly, he was in front of me and...Bang.” You look her in the eyes with a sense of sick awe, confirming your theory.

“I can regenerate...?”

The woman holds her breath, glancing over to her desk. You follow her eyes to her computer, sensing the answers in a file labeled with your name. She wasn't telling you something. You frown, the shivers of fear, turning into shakes of blooming anger but your body declines into crabby, the most you could do was pout. “You knew...”

She quickly tries to defend herself but the fact that she doesn't deny it only makes you feel worse.“It is more complicated than that...Your body has a self repairing function that made the surgery difficult. It's not that you can regenerate, it's that your frame literally just...moves out of the way and dips under pressure.” She sits down on the coffee table and takes your shaking hands. “I did plan to tell you but you were so overwhelmed yesterday, I thought it best to wait until you had returned to a better state of mind.”

“Well, I'm certainly not in one right now, am I?”

You shake your head, looking down at your lap. You couldn't look at her. How many times did you have to state that you were tired. God, you were so tired of being tired. You force her to release your hands and sigh, clenching your fists and grabbing on to the fabric of your sweats. “There was some controversy with the researcher when the order came to try and...remove something. At that point the order came to stop. I am unsure what will happen if you were to severe an arm or hand-”

“Or having my head blow off by a shotgun, got it.” You try to still the rushing thoughts, from new information to panic attack and- “What else have you been holding back from me? We made a deal.” You look her dead in the eyes and say with a forceful tone, “I want everything you have.” She nods, standing back up for her improvised chair and walks back to her desk.

“Did the attacker say anything to you before his retreat?”

Back to the topic at hand, you sigh and cupped the back of your neck, fingering the etched dips of the skin, the mechanical opening that laid underneath and hidden from sight. “The guy said something about getting back to the ship. I think he came with backup but I didn't see anybody else.” You see her tense, quickly convince the worry that flashes across her face and how she slowly looks between you and then Zarya. You see calculation in her eyes and wonder if she was going to spill the beans about Sombra.

She seems to have decided and glances to the soldiers at the door to give them the sound of clearing her throat, a nod of her head as they come to attention and leave the room at her signal. You shift in your seat, daring to rise and stagger over as your legs wobble like jelly for a second. You swallowed, still thirsty, and came to stand besides Zarya with little to no attention of her scowl.

“What I am about to tell you is to stay between us. As a board member of the UN, disclosing this information to you without the councils full permission is a hefty rule to break but...Considering that this was an obvious attack on my life and therefore on Russia, I think I can afford to bend regulations for two people of such high profile.” You watch with Zarya as Katya pulls something up from her computer, turning the screen towards us in the process.

It's a collage of pictures, all depicting a hooded figure with an skeletal mask. “During the past seven years, a terrorist known only as the Reaper has been appearing and killing in numerous locations around the globe. While his identity and motives are still a mystery to us, we have recently found a common connection between his victims.” You raise a brow at the most recent event that flashes on the screen; a camera shot of the battle you had been in not one moment ago, your fleeing form cowering behind a crate and Reaper in a stage between mist and corporal.

You look from photo to photo: the signs of chaos and disturbance. An armored truck is rolled over on its side, with a single security officer on his knees, at gunpoint before the ex-commanders gun. There are scenes of murder with a body slumped over in a office chair. The face is hollow and eyes are sunken into the sockets; patches of skin were rotting, teeth visible through a decaying hole in the jaw. Feeling yourself gag, you turn away from the horror.

This was all top secret information, a ghastly sight she was entrusting the two of you with her own reasons. You shake from a shudder that races up your spine and keep your eyes glued to the CEO in hope that it helps you ignore the screen.

“Seven years and you're just now finding a connection?” Katya sighs, walking away from her desk and looking out the window...Something about this seems familiar. You shake your head, not really wanting to remember whatever is coming. You've had enough for today, you don't want anymore. At least, not until you've got something you can catalog with. Your brain is beginning to feel like a miss-mash of different things, things that should and shouldn't be and that you should and shouldn't know. The puzzle pieces were starting to get mixed up with a different puzzle and you don't know which goes to which.

“He does something to them. Whatever it is, completely destroys the targets bodies and eats away at the cells.” Rapid cellular degeneration...”It leaves them as nothing more than an indistinguishable husks and that's if we're even lucky enough to find the remains at all.” He takes so much...”More often than not, they're reduced to nothing more that piles of dust and bone.” There's nothing left...

Zarya looks on with disturbed disbelief, even as a soldier she may have never heard of such a thing. Being as she is speechless, you have to be the one to ask.“So, what do they have in common?”  
  
“They are all people of power. Big or small, people who are dabbling with politics, military; ethical group members, safety members. It ranges from anywhere between communications, treasury, high corporation owners such as myself and even stock owners.”

“Broad but important figures.” You manage to say, pressing the pad of your thumb between your eyes.

“It narrows down; all of these victims have the potential for some kind of political or social reform. But it's not just that, it's that they have been affiliated with both the UN or the former group; Overwatch.”

“Didn't Overwatch help end the Omnic Crisis? Why would anyone want to target them? Besides, they were disbanded for some bad rumors, right?” Katya serves you a judging stare...You blink, staring down at the carpet and raising a brow.

That was right, wasn't it? You didn't know that before...

“What do you know of Overwatch, Reider?” You shake your head, pinching between your brows and groaning, wishing this would just all stop happening to fast, you were going to get whiplash at this rate.

“I know that they were a peace organization that helped end the Crisis...I don't know how long ago that was but it was a big deal. Then, that there was some big happenings that made the UN split them up and ban anything they do...” You look her dead in the eyes and plead with her. “That's really all I know...I know, it seems way too convenient for me to be remembering things like this right now, given everything that's happening but it just...came out.” God forbid anything else did, you were already in trouble enough.

“Do you recall anything else?” You shake your head.

“I agreed to tell you if I learned anything new about myself, didn't I?” Despite the lingering feeling that you were still missing something you pawn it off in favor of continuing the conversation, the concerns you legitimately had. “So, why go after you in the first place?” She sighed, looking away to the side.

“It could be for power, it could be for information...” Zarya clears her throat.

“If I may ask? Why are you telling us this, Katya?” That's another good question. She locks Zarya with a stare.

“Because the mercenary Reaper is not acting alone. There's something more at work here and whatever it is, is attempting a power move. The UN is trying to sweep this under the rug; play ignorant to it, deny it's happen right as it happens under their nose. They are playing blind to catastrophes around the world and pawning it all off as small, meaningless strife's. They have been refusing to send aid to those that need it and stabilize structure to help those that are falling.” She huffs with a tantrum anger, her breathing going labored from her quick pace. “I am sick and tired of it.” You watch as the woman seems to come apart in front of you. Turning her back towards you so as to hide the vibrations rolling off her person.

It's the sight of woman who's been pushed too much, holding too much back, weighed down by burdens that just keep piling.

“A gang surfaces in Dorado with decommissioned military weapons and is wrecking havoc, town to town. Underground crime lords are getting funds from out of nowhere; legitimate funds from unknown and wealthy suppliers. Experimental drugs are being trafficked by children. The voice of civilians are going unheard and being shut out.” She bring sup a hand to rub at her forehead.

“I joined the board of the UN, I started all of this-” She sweeps the same hand out and over the yard outside, the soldiers and turrets that monitor and patrol the area, the Russian flags that wave in the cold nip breeze. “I sacrificed so much of my life in order to help my people, in order to help people around the world against anything that threatens it...”

Sighing in defeat, she adds. “But the biggest threat...The biggest threat to the world right now, is the 'peacekeepers' like the UN, refusing to do a thing about it.” She shakes her head, tipping it to look at us through hazed and defeated eyes.

“There was someone else during the attack.” Oh, so she was going to tell you. “This someone is a hacker. I don't know her name, don't know who she is, only that she has threatened me for power and if I refuse she will release unsavory information about me and my dealings involving the company...Even going so far as to threaten my daughter.”

“You sure you want to tell us this?” I ask, looking at Zarya who listens in shock.

“Zarya, you are my closest friend. You have given up much to help this company and your nation. It would be cruel of me to hide anything from you.” The solider nods with doubt in her eyes, uncertain of the information she's about to hear. “It is another reason why I am intent on learning from Reider rather than destroying her, despite so many calls from the UN saying to do so. It is because Reider is not the only Omnic anomaly I have made deals with in exchange for information.”

The fact causes the soldier to look down and sigh. Her clenched hands going numb and muscles lax. She closes her eyes, shaking her head and stares at the floor. “You understand, yes? The reason our military stands so firm against this coming crisis? How Volskaya technology proves so effective against Omnics?”

“I had...assumptions...” Katya frowns, peeking over her shoulder.

“Than, I trust you know why you are here?” A groan attempts to break free from your throat, minor pain erupting in your head at the phrase used.

“I believe I do.”

No, no, no. This is all too familiar. This shouldn't be familiar. You're not suppose to be here. You're not suppose to be apart of this. The continuing conversation sounds muffled to your ears as you try to keep yourself from weaving, blinking hard against the mental assault your brain attacks with.

“I did this for Russia, I did this to make Russia safe. While, I know the people do not favor the Omnics, how are we suppose to fight against a threat when we do not even understand our enemy? How they think? How they function?”

“You should have told me.”

“I am telling you. Omnic energy is the most powerful core on the planet and we as human beings have no even begun to understand the science behind it. Look at Reider! Everything she is. How little we know about her. How she is even possible. She is living proof of how ill prepared we are for the next fight to come. How much of a disadvantage we may be in if more like her exist or are on the way. If the public finds about about my cooperation with Omnic figures than they will most likely-”

“They'll drop their guard, follow your example and start to open up. What's so bad about that?”

The rushed and growing argument between the two woman is put on pause once again by your blunt statement. Katya sighs in defeat, “It is the distrust in Omnics that keeps people in Russia safe from blindsided attacks. Old models, once friendly, suddenly go berserk and kill their neighbors. Cases such as these have reached double digits here and one moment is all it takes for them to fall under the influence of old programming. Never mind the threat that we fight outside of towns and cities, our suspicion is the only thing that keeps people safe INSIDE their homes.”

“Just tearing open an old machine can only tell us so much about how they function. Getting to know them when they are alive, however...How does the American saying go? Keep your enemies close but your friends closer?”

You shudder, having been made a prime example in all of this and back away. Heading back towards the couch and plopping down. You feel a shift beside you, peeking over your bangs to see Zarya had joined you, leaning back and sighing out loud. You don't blame her, it's a heavy weight that even a professional weight lifter like her would have trouble holding.

“What do you want me to do, Katya?”

“You...will help me?”

“I understand your reasons. Don't like them but understand. If this secret goes public than it could cause some social backlash and distrust within the military. People count on Volskaya Industries to work against the Omnics...Not with them...” She hums, giving you look at the corner of her eyes and instantly you look away. She chuckles under her breath, be it in disbelief or because she caught you staring, it's a tired but accepting sound. “So, what do you want me to do?”

You look up towards Katya and see her giving her friend a overwhelmingly relieved smile. “Thank you, Zarya.” The pink toting soldier shakes her head and lifts a finger.

“Do not go thanking me yet, give me my orders. You may thank me once the mission is complete.”  
  
“I need you to find the people responsible for this attack.”

“That's a lot for one person.” You state.

“She will not be alone.” Katya gives you a solid look, one you get a bad feel from and rising concern.  
  
“I made a call not long after we interrogated you, Reider. It was to an old friend who was a well known figure in Overwatch. I may have said this out loud around you but never went into detail.” You nod along, remembering her mentioning something about them 'coming to a decision.' “He is a renown scientist, who's technological genius has helped me in the past...” She pulls her hand behind her back and tips her weight to one foot. “I have asked him to take you in. His knowledge in machines and open mind about technology far surpasses our own here in Russia and I believe that if anybody could learn more about you, it would be him.”

Zarya sighs, “You plan to send me with her, don't you?”

“I need a confidant that can keep an eye on her, just in case we learn something that could be...triggering.” In case you go crazy, find out you're a monster, try to kill people, have a plan for total Omnic control. “Most importantly, while you are there I want you provide defense. I have little doubt that Winston will eventually be targeted by Reaper. It may not have happened yet, but with his connections and ties to Overwatch, as well as with me and the UN, it will on be a matter of time. If Reaper does attack Winston, than that confirms that the woman who threatened me is involved with him. That will give you a suitable lead to finding out who she is and getting to the bottom of what she wants.” You nod, setting an elbow on the armrest and propping your head.

She gives the both of you a settling stare “In return for all of this...He has my support if ever he attempts to plan a Recall.” You give a low whistle at the statement of her continued 'betrayal.' The undertone reeking of pulled strings and shady business. She was putting a lot on the line that you could tell, especially with it topped off by Sombra's blackmail. You don't know the penalty for 'betraying government secrets' but it certainly wasn't going to be a slap on the wrist.

It sounds...Good. Katya already made it clear that they can't learn anything more from you besides what you ca tell them and you don't know anything besides what you remember. What you remember is shady at best in terms of authenticity and if there was someone who could help you make sense of things right now.

You sigh, having a feeling that it wasn't up to whether or not your agreed with this. You accepted that you really had no say in the things that happened to you anymore and don't comment on your opinion.  
  
“As far as the UN knows, Reider will be under supervision and studied for more information. Zarya, you are still fighting for your country on the battlefield against any and all threats. What I am going to tell them is simply...Bending the truth.” She covered her bases.

“Winston has already expressed to me his thoughts on the events happening in the world and his growing interest in reforming the old Overwatch. United Nations ban or not. I...Fully intend to side with him.” Katya sets her sights on the thick woman in the room, she remains unchanged to the information. It speaks volumes on how much the two of them knew each other. The weightlifter sends a look that implies 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

“Prior to this attack I already received a call that a former member will be arriving within a few days to collect you...And if ever Winston does Recall...It would be best to make good with them, sooner than later in case a second Omnic Crisis does come about.”

“Manipulating them into thinking that they owe you one.” At your statement the woman looks taken back. You shrug away the sting of Zarya's threatening growl. “What? That's what I hear behind all this. You're giving him me, Zarya, support and if there is a Recall, I'm guessing you'd fund him too. At this point will all your giving him, even before his decision to Recall this 'Overwatch' in the end he would feel too guilty NOT to help you.”

“It doesn't matter what you think about this Reider. Whether or not you want to, now that they have agree'd you're going to them.” You nod along with a displeased sigh, proving yourself right. “I can however, promise you something.” You lift your head with interest, grounded by her kind smile and certain eyes. “Winston will take good care of you.”

The walk back to your cell is an awkward one, Katya's voice echoing in your head. “I'm going to call Winston again and fill him in on the attack, warn him of the dangers and depending on his response the two of you may be retrieved sooner than we had first planned.” Zarya is behind you, no gun pointed at you, nor glares at the back of your head. She had been uncharacteristically gentle with you during your march back to your room. It may be a good step forward.

Until you stopped at the construction zone, seeing the damage you had caused with your fight against Gabriel. There are scuffs in the floor from gunshots, broken crates and bent railing. The bodies are gone but bloodstains remain as a testament to the lives put in danger. You rest your hands over the railing of the second floor and look down to see the mechanical Mech still fallen over and motionless. The damaged machine that Reaper has destroyed is now hollow; missing its dead pilot and sparks still flash from the broken and shredded ligaments. The smell of oil and shredded metal hits your nostrils and makes you want to gag; concrete/burning coal, it's a tough smell to describe but sets a turn in your stomach that you don't enjoy.

It was a total war zone.

You practically jump from your skin as Zarya lets out a loud sigh, joining you in looking over the destruction. She turns to give you a stare of testing patience. “Did you truly mean what you said back there? About the lives of our soldiers ?” You nod with little hesitation; you didn't regret your choice to help. Seeing her brows pull in thought she glances from you back to the damage and to you again. You see something fleeting shine in her eyes, a glimmer of what you hope is respect.

“I...Want you to see something.” You hold your breath as she leads, asking you to follow. You quickly catch up to her heels, letting yourself bask in the warmth that her gesture presents. For a soldier, she was showing you her back, putting a lot of faith and trust in you not to take advantage of her opening.

Oh yes, this was definitely a big leap forward

“You are too human for me to fully trust.” And the metaphorical leaper trips over his untied shoelaces, landing him back in last place. You let your shoulders hang, sighing once more, too many times today and look down. Just when you finally thought you were getting somewhere but Zarya continues to speak. “But...There are a lot of people, a lot of friends and family I know, that you saved by helping...For that...I thank you.”

Before you knew it, you had passed your cell and walked down another set of stairs, bypassing the damage and setting down a different hallway. “You would have done the same thing.” Your heart stalls as the large woman stops her walking, turning to you with her teeth across her bottom lip. Suddenly, an unfamiliar expression grows across her face; brown eyes glittering in mirth and honesty. It's the first time you've ever seen her smile.

“You're right...I would have.” You feel something hot well under your cheeks, something from inside and realize that; shit, are you blushing? Can you blush? She continues to lead you, following dumbly at her heels and mentally arguing with your body to chill with the high-school girl reaction, the little internal scream of, 'Oh my god! Finally!!' You shake your head, her approval wasn't the intention, it was getting her to lighten up on the hostility. Thinking on it, you supposed that both was good.

You went from hallway to hallway, doors hissing open at motion sensor as you approach and hissing back closed as you wandered too far. Eventually, your nose begins to tickle with the smell of sterilization and ammonia. Passing soldiers started to turn to people in scrubs, nurses with hovering screens and clipboards, carrying supplies from one room to the next. Your heart lurches in your chest when your giving passing looks, surprised glances and even a relived smile or two. Zarya grabs you by the wrist and leads you over to a desk, tapping on the counter to get the clerks attention.

The blond secretary pauses from her computer work and peaks at Zarya over her hanging bangs. Her thin brows raised in the unspoken, 'what do you want?' As if she was too busy to actually ask. Zarya ignores her somewhat rude expression and firmly inquires. “What's the status of our injured?” The blond gives you a glance at the corner of her eyes, sneer turning up in a curious smile before she goes back to typing on her computer.

“It could have been a lot worse, most of the soldiers only suffered mild internal bruising, a few external bruising and fractured ribs.” Zarya nodded, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed.

“Casualties?”

“Four. The pilot of the Anti-Omnic Mech, bled out from shotgun wounds to his chest as well as the crushing weight of the frame as it shut down on him.” A massive bleeding hole in his chest from where Reaper had shot him, fish glazed eyes locked onto you. “One soldier suffered a broken neck as he fell from the second floor and made contact with the ground.” You flinch at the phantom sound the concrete gives as his body lands with a SNAP. “Our head guard of security was found dead in the camera room and a patrol guard outside of sector A was located with a sniper round lodged in his skull.”

Two others you had not been there for, two people who got in the way of 'you-know-who.' Someone maybe had spotted Widowmaker and move to call for backup. Someone too slow to realize her sights were on him, her finger on the trigger. Maybe it was a passerby who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You find yourself trembling and bring your thumb to your mouth in order to stifle the whimper of anxiety. In the security room, a guard falls victim to a terrorist hacker who watches you through the camera feed and aids in your well timed escape and her comrades easily obtained entry.

But...You still helped. Glancing left and right to hopefully find that one face that would look familiar and set all your nerves at peace. You still helped. Only two people died during the actual fighting that you took place in. Both of which you were too late for (YOU COULD HAVE HELPED SOONER!) But what did you care? Why did you care? They weren't your responsibility, why do you feel so guilty?

“Has Piers Sokolov been admitted?” You eyes rapidly lock onto Zarya, head twisting around fast enough to be considered breakneck. She's trying not to look at you, keeping her eyes everywhere but you, hoping not to catch sight of your watering eyes and hopeful expression. The uninterested nurse gives the curt reply, typing away and pulling up files, giving a small nod and scratch of her nose.

“Bruised, with a mild concussion from head trauma otherwise, he is fine. As I said, things could have been a lot worse.” One again, her eyes make contact with you, her coy smile growing. She links her hands together, laying her elbows on the desk and scoots her chair forward to move closer towards you.

“Aren't you...The one who ran that guy off?” You step to hide behind Zarya, almost like a shy toddler hiding behind big sister's or mama's legs.

“I didn't run him off, I just-tried to-” She cuts you off with a tsk.

“Doesn't matter, there are a lot of soldier's here alive because of what you did.” And it breaks you even more. You sniff, using your tattered shirt to wipe away the snot at your nose. Zarya clears her throat, regaining the nurses attention and continues her questions.

“Is he in a room?”

“105, down the hall to your left.” And you dart off first, getting a small omph as you nudge against Zarya's shoulder, she gives a call of your name behind you but you don't care, she can bitch at you later. When you come to the room and open the door you give a joyous laugh of relief, seeing a familiar man sitting on an observing table. The nurse he's talking with is surprised by your sudden entrance and scolds.

“We're busy right now,”

“No, it's okay.” At his consent you dive for him, wrapping your arms softly around his chest and burying your face in his shoulder. HE gives the smallest of grunts upon contact but returns the gesture.

Your sobs catch his shirt, muffling the anguish of how-god, you could have seriously lost him. You don't feel him run his hand through your hair or pats on your back in soothing strokes. Just hear his soft chants of encouragement. “Ssh, it's okay Reid. I'm okay.” His soft voice doing wonders for your frayed nerves. Everything about today was just too much and too exhausting, Piers at this point was your anchor in the storm. You hear someone clear their throat from the doorway but don't bother to look, just stay wrapped up in familiar arms. “Are you alright?” At your lack of answer he repeats to who you expect would be Zarya. “Is she alright?”

“Physically, she's fine just bit shaken...She did a lot during that attack...Saved a lot of people...” He sighs, nodding at the woman's answer.

“As much as this little reunion pulls at my heart, I have other patients that need looked at.” The nurses heals clop against the floor and you shift along with your friend as he moves to stand up, retreating for a moment to look over his face.

He gives you a warm and fatherly like smile, tired eyes pulling up in a comforting somber look.

You sniff, wiping your face once more with your arm and feel yourself letting out a giggle. “I avenged you.”

He holds your hand as you walk through the facility, pointing out small hallways and doors. Zarya remains behind you, following along as supervision while Piers led you down a familiar hallway, stopping by a familiar cell. You sighed, tightening your hold on him as Zarya makes to walk away.

“I will be back, stay with Piers.” You nod along, eyes half-lid as all the anxiety fueled adrenaline was starting to die down.

“M'not goin' anywhere.” And flash the older man a smile as he pulls you into your room, you notice that the doorway remains open. “I'm tired of this cell.” He nods along with you, leading you to bed and pulling up a stool to sit with you.

“Want to tell me what happened?” You pout, getting comfortable by leaning against the wall and curling your knees to your chest.

“You were knocked unconscious and I joined the fight. Borrow your gun, it's somewhere down there.” You nod to the railing, the lower floor and pulled at your bangs. A few soldiers pass, along with familiar construction crew. Each one hesitates as they step over your cell, giving you doubtful looks. Some even smile, a few even ignore you or wave. It'd figure that only after you try to kill for THEM that they would start to trust you. Hey, you got what you wanted. At least now they weren't glaring daggers at you anymore.

“Katya says I might be leaving sooner than later now.” The elder gentleman gives a thoughtful nod. “I don't have much of a say in the matter.” You furrow your brows and hesitate to ask. “Um...Do you know what Overwatch is?” You take this chance to get more confirmation, try to match your stories. You NEED to do this. NEED to know if you were right or not.

He gives a excited smile, looking off as if in nostalgia. “Overwatch was a team of heroes, charged with saving the world.” You snort.

“Fanboy.” Its all in his voice, his gives you a playful nudge with his knee.

“It is true, I looked up to them as a child. We all did.” He drifts off and turns to you in surprise. “You know Overwatch?” You shrug, shaking your hand out side to side.

“They ended the Omnic Crisis and then were forced apart.” He tsked, scowling at the wall behind you.

“Rumors and fake news. People thought that with the Omnic Crisis over they didn't need Heroes anymore. It came back and slapped them in the face, Overwatch didn't just handle the Omnics, they handled crime lords, secret investigations, peace movements.” He sighed, crossing his arms and one leg over the other. “Then there was a scandal about Blackwatch.”

You tilted your head to the side, faking concern. “Blackwatch?”

“Overwatch was just a shining distraction from Blackwatch, men and woman that were practically hired criminals. The public got to learn about what really went on in Overwatch, how they were actually making their fame. Allegations of corruption, weapons proliferation, assassination, coercion, kidnapping, and human torture.” He wiped at his forehead, eyes pinched closed in aggravation. His tone suggested that the story was touching personal opinions. “Eventually, the UN launched an investigation about it and...Things happened.”

“The explosion...” Piers gave you a tip of the head, scratching his beard and giving and regretful sigh.

“UN said it was an accident, gas explosion, inner turmoil and inside fighting...I respected a lot of those heroes, I didn't care which group they were in, they saved us.” He huffs, a stiff chuckle that sounds more broken than natural. “I wanted to BE them, had their fucking action figures and everything, told my parents 'I want to be a soldier, I want to save people like they do.' And then they just...blew themselves up overnight!” He sighed, shifting back in his seat. “Hey, people got what they wanted...Overwatch was disbanded, Blackwatch went with them and heroes were outlawed.”

“And you still became a soldier.” He shakes his head, setting you with a determined stare.

“Overwatch stood for peace and safety, protecting people from any and all harm. So, if the rumors were true. I like to think they were doing it for the peoples best interest.” He shrugs his shoulders, “But that's me, just because Overwatch was gone that didn't mean what they represented had to go with them. I...felt it was my duty to try and keep the legacy going.” You smile, reaching over to pat his knee and earn him a grin.

“I think that's a noble reason.” He chuckled, stretching out his arms and tipping the seat on its back legs. “And I'm going to tell everyone that you were a screaming fanboy.” He playful tried to kick you, the teetering threat of losing his balance your only safety.

“What about you? You obviously know about them, so tell me what you think.” Your smile slowly drops, mind in searching for the right words. The stories matched, you remembered KNEW more to it...The leaders of the two organizations both presumed dead but alive. Men and woman of high caliber either retired, presumed dead, or on the run from the law as they continue the heroism they weren't allowed to.

Faceless names came to mind, shadowed by anonymous figured and different shapes and sizes. You don't realize your staring off in space until Piers calls your name, brows raised in worry and hand on your shoulder. You blink autonomously at him and give him an out of place smile, hoping he'd ignore your little stunt.

“I think...The world could always use more heroes like them.” A sound comes from the door, both you and Piers turn to see Zarya standing their with a duffle bag in one hand and a tray of food in the offer. She tosses the bag at you, which you catch awkwardly with both hands, unceremoniously releasing an duckish sound as one of the straps hits you in the mouth.

The pinkette lays your tray on the table, turning to cross her arms and lean against the counter with a taunting look that borderlines between playful and 'come at me, bro.' You point your chin down at the bag and ask what's in it. “Boots, toiletries, a few change of clothes.” She points at your demolished shirt. “Your tit's out.”

To which you look down at and stare dumbly at the mound of flesh, peaking from one of the burned hole of the fabric.

Indeed, it was. Catching the bag had pulled the tee down one of your shoulders and let the boob free. Piers is quick to jump to his feet and clear his throat. “I should check in with my commanding officer and see if he has any need of me, you girls have fun!” He waves you off as you giggle at his obvious embarrassment. You're too focused on the fact that you have nipples, not bothering to cross an arm over your chest to hide it. You instead open the bag and dig through the supplies, smiling when you see denim jeans (JEANS JEANS FINALLY JEANS!!!!) As you drag free a black shirt, you pause from your excitement.

“...How'd you know what size I am?”

“Learned during your...interrogation. The report's in there as well...And some underclothes” You frown at the mentioned article of clothing. Picking up the black bra and pursing your lips. Did you really even need it? You look at your chest and sigh indecisively. You weren't exactly endowed, the frame underneath your skin made it appear more like muscle than actual breasts. You decide on removing your shirt, ignoring the off guard sound Zarya emits as she turns her head.

Clipping the bra on and about the slip over the black turtleneck you notice another abnormality to your person. You had a fucking six pack, your abdominal muscles well defined and after prodding them; firm. You were certain if you could feel the 'skin' would be very life-like and with that thought you raise a brow, tugging the waistband of your sweats open to look at your more...private parts.

...

You slap the rubber back against your hips when Zarya lets out a cough. “I see you have this covered but wouldn't you feel better-?” She points to the 'bathroom' and sheet that would separate you from the world. Why was she embarrased?

“You're a solider. Don't you like...Share shower space?” The professional made a face and pointed forcefully.

A thought comes to mind, sending a cold wave through you. 'She just doesn't want to see your disgusting fake body. She's seen what you really look like, she knows what's under the suit you call skin.' You silently shuffle through the bad and find the underwear she mentioned. Following her command and grabbing your jeans you walk over and pull the sheet closed behind you. Zarya speaks up before you can shed your sweats.

“I have to prepare myself, so I will be leaving you...Katya has informed me that the door is to remain unlock...Think of this as your reward for helping us.” You blink, peaking your head out to see her stepping outside the door frame. She sets you with a stare. “Do not think that means you are permitted to leave the facility, Reider.” You shake your head at her, going back to undressing.

“I already told you...I've got no where else to go.”

She closed the door, you can only have faith she was being honest about leaving it unlocked. Taking a deep breath and setting your reflection with a hard look you slowly dropped your sweats. You bit your lip, looking down at the flat and featureless nether's.

Was there...There was suppose to be something there right? It didn't really look right, you think? You shimmy on your feet and make a sour face. Just...looking at it was making you uncomfortable, the only defining feature of sex was a slit in the skin, no hair or, the lip was suppose to be more...? You grit your teeth and force a breath through your nose. You spread your fingers to pull back on the weird loose but not too loose skin.

It's like your body just had a vague understanding of what it was suppose to look like and failed. You felt like there was suppose to be something more there, maybe less? Katya said you would have to 'relieve' if you ate or drank anything but it didn't really look like you had all the right parts. You shuffle again, turning to look at your backside in the mirror and grabbed one of your cheeks. At the threat of seeing just what all your were dealing with you dropped your hands, turning back around to gently pull at your bra, looking down at your chest.

Plastic, rubber...The best way to describe yourself would be as an adult imitation of a Barbie Doll...

'Why won't you fuck me, Ken?' Obviously, because you weren't, you didn't...Could you even, really? You remember Zarya mentioning the interrogation/investigation/autopsy report in the bag and let out a long distressed sigh. If there was any way of finding out it would be there. If they were thorough enough about their 'investigation.' Swallowing the bad taste in your mouth you now take great pains to ignore your reflection in the mirror while finishing to get dress.

You feel weird stepping out of the stall. The jeans were nice on your hips, a faded but possibly well worn blue, the fabric should be tough under your fingers. The turtleneck would do its job to keep away a cold you couldn't feel and hugged your chest just enough it at least seemed like you had a chest. You toss the sweats and ruined shirt on the bed, looking through your bag for any kind of file or folder, papers.

You only find a black tablet, raising a brow at the handheld and sat on the bed to investigate. It looks like an average handheld. There was a small button at the bottom center of the device you pressed and the screen comes to life; literally. It folds out of the glass and lifts off into the air, hovering just above the pad and appearing like a two screened laptop. You hesitantly tap the hologram, the digital image responding, rippling like water from your poke. Your eyes widening when the display changes to a home screen; complete with clock in the corner, apps, and a single file on the page labeled 'Reider.'

You stare hesitantly at the folder, a heavy rock in your stomach.

'Okay then...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!! Piers is okay! YAY!! Plot progress has been made! YAY!!! MORE FANART!!
> 
> http://worldsfool.tumblr.com/tagged/Pretend-Like-You%27re-Normal
> 
> If you see any mistakes, please let me know me know in a well worded comment, just wanna say hi and scream in my ears? Drop by my tumblr, I have no life and never leave it for too long.


	8. Reporting On Deck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to take a moment to thank all of you. Thank you all so much. This story has reach hits over 3500, I can't believe this. You are all so wonderful in making this writer feel so accomplished and proud of herself. I hope to keep you all on your toes and at the edge of your seat for each passing update and hope that this month long wait didn't turn you away from reading.
> 
> If it did...Well...I hope this rekindled your passion for the story.
> 
> Now on to the nitty gritty. I am not a doctor, this chapter has at least two doctors in it. Any and all information below is off the top of my head with a google search filling in the blanks. Wanna nit-pic at me and say that you could have done this better? I encourage it, gimme a head's up in the comments and we can brain-storm because this chapter fought me.
> 
> Also, I have another work out. Another Reader-Insert for Persona 5 that I could not help myself from making. It is called, You're A Minor Arcana. Any fan fiction writer should know that if you work on one thing for too long you may get tired of it (or it could just be me...?) This is something to help me refresh from Overwatch once in a while so that I don't burn out on it. Granted PLYN is still my main objective but I will being going back and forth between writing for it and YAMA.
> 
> Anyways, here is the chapter. I have made it extra long to make up for my absence and hope you enjoy. As per usual, let me know your thoughts in the comments and if you see any kind of mistakes please find it in your heart to point them out for me.

The first thing you do is change the system language to English, hoping to god that whatever documents were on the tablet translated in the process. Funny, you can hear and understand the Icelandic language perfectly but god forbid if you went to a Russian town and had to read the signs you would be as lost as a duckling. You eyed the date, September 30th, 2075...-Amusement causes you to snort; 2075 didn't sound like a real year but whatever. You finally had a sense of time. It was a case of the Mondays at three in the afternoon. You tugged at your lip in concern, you always pictured assassinations happening at night rather than midday but than again Reaper was meant to be a professional, you certainly weren't going to judge him on attack strategy. What mattered was that they failed and Katya was still alive.

You take a deep breath and pull open the folder in your name, counting your blessings when English pulled up on the screen.

Do you really want to do this though? You were about to find out just what all was done to you in your unconscious state, certainly whatever Katya did not tell you by mouth would be on this file and you felt your heart start to pick up pace, you know you're going to see something you wouldn't like, be it something about yourself or something that they did to you. So, you take another deep breath and exhale through your nose; vowing to react like a responsible and sensible adult. No trashing the room again, no cussing out, no temper tantrum.

Grit your teeth.

_From the record of Maxim Aryshev. Any and all information disclosed on this document is eligible to be held within a court of law. Document may be provided for emergency medical reference with permission from UN officials._

_As resident Omnictologists it is my privilege during these trying times to be of service to Lady Volskaya in any way shape or form. Due to the...unusual-ness of this case I will report my findings as professionally as possibly. I came for an Omnic mental and physical scan...not an autopsy that I ended up supervising as a certifiable witness but I digress; with the case being as it were I preformed to satisfactory standards._

_Patient name: Unknown._  
_No known name was provide during the study._

 _Patient Serial No.: Unknown._  
_No known number was provided during the study. Investigation of the body shows no number, nor bar-code or manufacture print present on any parts of the patients frame, indicating an unregistered model. All Omnic models possess at least some designated license number that is to be considered their 'birth mark' as well as social security. Patient's lack of one as well as usual design has me suspect that perhaps they are custom built?_

_Model is the most human by design on possible record to date. Appears more human like in both function and make. This includes organs, tissue, muscle. Less Omnic and more of an android/cyborg hybrid. As previous state, I will attempt my best to remain professional in describing the patient of this case but to see her is to shake the foundation of all Omnic studies._

_Patient Age: Unknown._  
_Without any code to run through the system it is hard to gauge the patients model age._

_Notes: This is by far the most unusual and disturbing case I have worked. This...creature is a miss mash of modern technology, past technology, human parts, functionality and Omnic features that frankly; is disturbing and a mockery to human ethics. When first assigned the case to catalog findings, I expected another war unit prepped and ready for mental scan but what I got was what appeared to be a mechanical monster dressed up like a human being without skin._

_It's facial structure functions as a single flexible plate, including optics within sockets, faux lashes, brows, lips and nose. Most if not all of this plating is made of a silicone like base that allows for flexibility. Tension in the cheeks, eyebrows, lips, allow for fluid human expression which in unheard of in a Omnic, as most facial frames are simple steel parts, all expression allowed in their tone and body movements; this creature breaks those boundaries._

_Facial frame is irremovable, lacks latch, key, or indention's for easy removal for maintenance. This blends in with the rest of the frame through thin layers of silicone that gradually seem to 'mix' with the rest of the body. I have requested medial equipment from resident doctor; including retina-scope. Patients eyes function most like a human would; lashes, socket. TEAR DUCTS!!! Pupils roll within the head during unconscious/power downed state and retina movement behind eyelids indicate sleep trauma. Glitch? Studies are still being speculated over whether or not an Omnic is capable of 'dreaming.' Unclear as to what substance the eye is layered with, soft and squishy which indicates an actual lens rather than what I had assumed to be simple glass. Or if it is glass, it certainly does not act like it. Retina's dilate with light and dark and I get to bare witness to the mechanics of how she comes to focus, much like a camera lens, when eyes are focusing a shutter like apparatus appears within the cornea of the eye and sizes. Thin vein like lines pulse through the corners, possible they power the function. Eyes can suffer through drying out, tears ducts operational...SHE/IT can cry. Unbelievable, if I had not seen it myself shortly after arriving. The most disturbing sight to see, clear tears running down the creatures face and hoarse sounds of pain. Further details included below. Patient ears appear as a kind of speaker, soft in come places and made of a kind of durable foam, looks soft to touch but contact will cause the substance to harden. (I am reminded of a cornstarch experiment in middle school.) Wires can be seen through the shell of the skull, connecting to outputs within the brain._

_Brain: Completely visible and appears organic in structure. Human in design! Veins apparent of blue and red but those colors are mostly for show, blood vessels are only in color when circulating blood, I do not believe this creature can bleed._

_Unlike most Omnics without an operating mouth (as they have no need to eat or drink) patient does have a flexible jaw bone within the frame of her face, allowing for a 'mouth like' opening. This opening has suitable teeth of unknown material (Plastic? Metal? I do not dare to put down bone.) A tongue and throat cavity. Tongue consistent of a gray, muscular like silicone with what appears to be functioning taste-buds (Are functioning? Can taste? Unable to prove as subjects remains unconscious) as well as sanitary glands to keep the mouth moist...Unheard of for an Omnic to lack a voice box but the patient has sections of her body frame that are visible; almost see-through, allowing inspection of what appears to be actual 'vocal cords' within the neck. Muscles are dark in color and almost snake skin in texture from visual inspection. Thin veins like lines, vector patterns etch throughout frame and pulse with a kind of heat and light, almost like blood vessels. I heard it's screams, and it is not mechanical. While most Omnics voice box can be heard clearly there is a certain mechanical undertone, robotic, this thing sounds too human...Too normal...If in a conversation she would sound like any other person. It chills me to the bone to hear her voice._

_At first I began with bare hands and teetering resolve. Now, I have requested gloves for which to wear. I do not what to touch this thing, but have little choice as I am legally obligated. I almost request they find someone else but now I am sickly curious myself._

_The abnormalities of this case are spectacular. Patient possessed maintenance ports on the following locations: Back of neck. Inner elbows. Wrists. Inner knee. Lower back. Upon being plugged within the Maintenance Scanner, patient suffered severe shock, normal reaction to being plugged but abnormal in terms of painful expression. It was clear in past that any maintenance plugging not consensual can prove to be 'painful' for an Omnic due to breaching of programmed fail-safes. Just shows that either this creature has a lot to hide or- I refuse to believe that any kind of Omnic can truly feel pain but this thing, even unconscious, does its hardest to prove me wrong._

_The subjects frame is consistent of a highly flexible and durable metal. Without a serial number to use for reference in the data base I can only make a safe estimate that it is the same substance used for military modeled Omnics. A stress test to pinpoint the durability of this metal is not possible at this time. Subject is made of plating frame as well as a clear silicon like layer, light to dark blue which have a transparent coating, allowing preview to inner frame mechanics._

_These sections include:_

_Skull: Allowing for me to see that the subject houses a brain, a cloudy like liquid submerges the organ but veins are obvious. No memory chips are visible although it is hard to say from sight alone what the brain itself is comprised of. Hard drive may be within the 'organ' itself._

_Chest: Another unusually in this case as patient appears to have lungs and a metallic rib-cage. As patient is unconscious her chest continues to flex as though she is truly breathing, lungs dilate as needed. Not within my legal contract to try and test to see if air is necessary but further inspection dictates a high probability. Between lungs that I can hardly see is what appears to be the 'black box' of the patient, however it is of a deep blue color and almost appears to be glowing. Power source? Bodily 'veins' seem to be stemming from this structure._

_*Note: Veins may act as the same as blood vessels? Seems to connect to every 'organ' in the body and may provide some code that allows them to function. Electric current network? Stems from the brain or chest?_

_Forearm: More inner mechanics._

_Underarm: More inner mechanics._

_Abdominal: Organs are somewhat visible through frame of abdominal/chest plate. I can make out a stomach and liver as well as kidneys but are these organs necessary?_

_Pelvis: More organs are visible, including uterus and urinary bladder. This dictates that 'organically' the patient is female through reproductive organs alone. No womb?_

_Groin: Vaginal opening._

_Thigh: Transparency is too thick to see through but it is possible to make out mechanic frame, almost appears in relations to a human hipbone._

_Knee: Joint mechanics, piston leading from knees to feet._

_Feet: Feet appear to have a spring like padding underneath the frame attached to the piston within the knee. My educated guess is that this allows for powerful jumps, perhaps kicks?_

_Hands: Structure of hand appears to have unknown mechanics within, most if not all of inner workings is made of the same veins that decorate through the body. Concentration of veins in this area makes it impossible to see through frame._

_Second part of investigation began shortly after mental scan reached past the normal firewalls._

_PATIENT IS NOW A THREAT TO NATIONAL SECURITY._

You exhale another breath, licking your lips as you try to steady your shaking hands. Not bad, that wasn't too bad. At least you had a better understanding of your own physical body. This man; Maxim must have looked you over while you were blacked out in the chair but begged the question; how long were you blacked out for? A shudder runs up your spine and has you choking on what would be a sob. You shake your head, not wanting to think about the nightmare; the loss of time.

It felt like eterni-STOP IT!

Thinking about it would only make you panic, you were fine. They said they wouldn't put you in the chair again...-But they're going to, they're going to hand you over to someone else, someone who will GET answers in a way THEY couldn't. Your eyes blurred on the pages as you tried to push past the anxiety, one of your hands pinching at your knee in an effort to snap you out of it but it's kinda pointless without feeling.

You settle on running a hand through your hair, brushing your locks away from your eyes and re-situate yourself on the bed. The next document in the folder read as such:

_From the record of Dr. Obiel Ingles. Any and all information disclosed on this document is eligible to be held within a court of law. Document may be provided for emergency medical reference with permission from UN officials._

_Patient's case does not required consent by law at this time. Circumstances may change._

_Patients skin is comprised of high fiber and artificial “scaffolding” best described as in layers. Bottom layer is reminiscent to the artificial skin used in burn patients. Sample reveals skin to be made of glycosaminoglycan and coats the patients frame, filling in what would be considered 'blanks' to her more mechanical appearance EX: Breasts. Ear cartilage. Nose cartilage. Stomach muscle. ETC. Sample reveals to have a similar genetic makeup to humans, cells found within this bottom layer react much like a humans; generating fibroblast to speed up the process of the bodies own production of collagen and allowing for 'skin' growth. After process is complete within a human body the bottom layer of “scaffolding” would usually dissolve away but this is not the case as it remains present on this patient._

_After collagen has been produced it is coated in a thin layer of high fiber but silicon like material, while this is not epidermis it acts similar, allowing for growth. This substance can be torn, stretched, cut, burnt, melted and frozen under extreme temperatures, and even removed for further study._

_Process for which new cells are produced is then sped up, allowing the removed section of the sample to be coated once more with the top layer, generated in mere seconds what would take a human body to produce in days in order to heal cuts. This speedy process coats the patient from head to toes, starting from any patience ports and growing over any mechanical openings. Acting and appearing almost leather like._

_However upon removal of this sample the host itself seems to be a key factory playing in the epidermis survival. Being removed form the body, prolonged separation of the host causes the skin sample to dry and shrivel before breaking down into the bottom layer of 'scaffolding' and then crumbling apart. Scientific guess is that when not in contact with the host the 'skin' is cut off from what supplies the 'cell's' functioning. The skin dies and scabs much like a human when removed from host but while still attached remains with it's almost alien like properties._

_Skin acts separate from original frame whilst still being attached, almost as if 'alive' and 'functioning' on it's own. Best to call it a separate entity entirely from patient. Both the skin and body appear to be 'alive' itself. With the 'epidermis' covering any once exposed mechanical structure this allows for the patient to appear more human like in appearance._

_Strands of hair shaft is made up of dead, hard protein, resembling keratin. Once more appears in layers underneath microscope. While human hair is made up of three layers, patients is only comprised of two. The cortex and the outer layer, the cuticle. The cortex makes up the majority of the hair shaft. The cuticle is formed by tightly packed scales in an overlapping structure similar to roof shingles. There are pigment cells that are distributed throughout the cortex, giving the hair its characteristic color. The cuticle is a hard shingle-like layer of overlapping cells, some five to twelve deep, formed from dead cells that form the scales which give the hair shaft strength and protect the inner structure of the hair._

_Hair follicles cannot be removed from scalp. Cutting any hair results in the same as trying to remove it by force. Much like the 'skin sample' any attempt to remove the hair will result in the almost automatic deterioration of the sample until none remains, strand from which this hair is removed will automatically 'regrow' this missing piece. Much like skin sample, hair follicles and strands rely on the cell structure found within the 'skin' itself._

_Setting the tablet on the bed in front of you and crossing your legs, gripping your knees in effort to keep from breaking anything. They had, of course, cut you open...Or at least tried to..._

_Incisions began on sternum upwards...Proving futile. While skin regenerates upon cut blade of tool was unable to pierce underneath. Metal frame and plating proves too tough for any lacerations, using notes from Maxim Aryshev, unprotected sections of patients body appear to be more susceptible to injury. Testing of patients weak points after time shows a result of the 'skin' acting fatigue when healing, showing a limit to the regenerative abilities although the cause for such is still unknown. This allowed for better experimentation of patient. Patients mechanical frame is comprised of alumini, however the inner parts of the frame are made of an unknown substance._

_Exposed area's of patients inner frame is as durable as steel, although acts and appears as a kind of rubber. Scalpels are unable to pierce frame, surgical equipment proves ineffective. Under permission from UN more durable tools were used. The more transparent and vulnerable area's of the patients body is only susceptible to extremes; both temperature, force, and pressure. Tested heat reached over 5,000 C before inner frame of the arm was exposed. Melting is possible, however the chest cavity seems to be more tolerate (thicker) to these elements._

_Patient remains unconscious during operation, even during surgery. Chest cavity does support lungs, continues to breath despite exposure through open cavity. Organs are made of silicone like base, but permission was declined on removing the organs for further study. Cutting off the airways, through the nose and mouth patient lasted well over three minutes before any struggle was made. Inner 'skeleton' is comprised of same alumini material as outer plating._

_Power source located in center of lungs. ''Black Box' with possible source code._

_Heart?_

_REMOVAL IS ILL ADVISED!! Heat not transmitted unless contact is made. Surgical steel hand has been lost, Box/Heart capable of reaching temperatures needed to melt metal._

_*Note: Much like the 'skin' the inner frame of the patient has regenerative abilities. Source of these abilities still remain unknown whether in the Black Box itself or the 'brain' Power sources seems to be generating from this 'black box' likely Omnic Energy but much more powerful than anything on record. May be possible for patient to survive on this energy alone. May be cause of patients abnormal case. The next evolution of Omnic energy? A new kind of energy overall? This is speculation._

_'Veins' of the patient appear vector-like, showing throughout inner structure. These veins act much like blood vessels and are currents that allow for the transportation of a liquid. Under microscope this liquid has been recognized as H20. Simple water. Injections can be made within the veins as well as within the maintenance ports. Injection test of regular tap water proved effective._

_Frame and skin both had catalyzed reaction to injection. Tools were pushed out of open area and any tool that was not was nearly rendered unusable as 'flesh' grew and sealed around it. This leads me to believed that the patients body must use water as a type of fuel source?_

_Maximum pressure and force that can not completely measured as more effective tools were unavailable at this time. A hammer was suggested and used against the patients chest cavity. Frames material was able to absorb the shock, and appeared to 'sink' under the pressure, rippling as shock-waves absorbed and then reflecting the shock of the blow. Hammer was torn from my hand from the subsequent aftershock. An unmovable object meets an stoppable force._

_Miscalculation on my part for the injection of water, as patients frame is now too thick to properly examine further the organ structure and reproductive system. Highly unlikely the patient needs to eat to sustain itself, nor it is uncertain if water is a must. I was unable to further research the possibility. Based on digestive system it is clear that the patient CAN eat and digest as well as have the means to properly relieve itself of waste._

_Upon attempting to work pressure into opening the patients abdominal for further studies. The examinations were put on hold by the UN as conflict of human rights came into question. I pleaded with the UN that the unusual subject required further study and examination, skin and 'camouflage' nature of subject allows for national threat. Stress tests needed to measure the amount of force patient was able to both endure as well as release. Contents of the 'organ' system within the patients abdominal region as were as what they were made of. The cranial search and possibility of a lobotomy. More tests were required but my pleading was rejected. Many executives had come to the decision that the patient appeared 'too human' to continue._

You stop, wiping your blurry tear filled eyes with the palm of your hand and took shuddered breaths. The document went on with a date and time, recorded notes and personal theories. You had briefly imagined your guts being pulled out and weighed but to your relief it seemed Katya or whoever was able to stop it, for that you were extremely grateful.

You were also extremely pissed to know the extent of their testing. While it had not gotten as far or bad as it could have, it still violated too much of your personal space and rights. You don't care or know if you even have rights with how you are right now. No wonder they hadn't given you a lawyer, you probably weren't even entitled to one. With your case you were probably only allowed whatever the hell an Omnic was/were. You closed out of the document, sniffing as you let it rest on the pillow.

At least now you had some better understanding of yourself. You glance over at the table, eyeing the tray of food and bottled water. Getting off the bed you made your way over and grabbed the drink, twisting off the cap and looking down at the steady liquid in concern. The report has said that you 'functioned' on water. That would explain why you were so tired after the fight with Reaper, if water was what you needed to be able to regenerate than that would make it a necessity, right? It's why you felt so much better after drinking the bottle in Katya's office.

You take a long sip of 'chill the fuck out' and let your body relax as the cool drink refreshes you for the second time today. You practically empty the thing in two gulps, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and studied the food on the tray. Pulling up the stool you took a seat. Another apple and another sandwich, only difference between this meal and your last was that the apple as green rather than red.

Last time you crushed it, this time you thought better of it. 'Can eat' said the report. 'Can taste?' But not required. You decided to test the theory picking up the juicy apple and swallowed down what rapidly forming drool was flooding your mouth. You had missed out yesterday but not today!

You sink your teeth into the ripe flesh and moan as a splendorous array of sweet yet sour juicy flavor assaulted your taste-buds. As it settled in your stomach you realize that you felt...empty...very empty. A soft rumbling erupts from your gut as has you quickly finishing the fruit, starting hastily on the sandwich and groaning at the new but familiar texture and flavors. It tasted like your favorite, whatever you remembered that was. You don't know if the hunger sensation was genuine or just triggered by eating but it wasn't stopping you.

You retreat back to bed after finishing the delectable snack, licking the crumbs off your fingers with greed. As you settle back into bed you reacquire the tablet, thumbing through the apps out of curiosity. You raise a brow when you see Google.

Did...Did they really trust you to get online? For all they know you really could have sent out the signal to attack. Not that you did but...- You shake your head, a light and disbelieving giggle erupts out and fills the room. Katya was a wonderful person...You could only assume that this was her tablet and she trusted you enough to have the WIFI on it.

You bit your lip, anything you did could possibly be tracked back to you. For all you know this trust was only on the surface and she could secretly be keeping tabs on any search history you had. So, you played it safe, opened an email account and browsed the net for the only thing in your mind that stuck out at the time; Overwatch.

You 'fell asleep' on a page about Strike Commander; Jack Morrison, his picture in full view on the screen, news story about his FAKE death and a sense of familiarity in your head.

Your eyes open the next day to the sound of familiar hissing, boots clop against the floor and you startle the soldier by turning in bed and quickly sitting up; alert and active. You give Zarya a surprised smile, not expecting her to be your wake up call. “Morning.” She hesitates at first but nods back in greeting and sets your breakfast on the counter, grabbing your leftover tray from yesterday and seems interested at the lack of crumbs.

“Good morning, Reider. Katya has reported to me that our flight will be here in a manner of hours. Get ready and I will take you to say your goodbyes.” Your eyes widen at the news, shuffling off your bed to stand.

“Wait...Like, right now?” She raises a questioning brow by your expression.

“Yes, You have no other objects besides what's in that bag.” Pointing to the duffle she had gave you yesterday, continuing “And I assumed that you would want to spend the rest of your time with that soldier you like.” You chuckle halfheartedly, pulling at your shirt and running a hand through your hair to at least try and look more tidy.

“You make it sound like I'll never see him aga-” You drift off, realization catching up with you and your eyes widening.

Zarya seems to notice your inner dilemma and sighs, snapping her fingers to regain your attention, much like someone would a dog. “I'll take you to the soldier quarters after you eat, yes?” You open and close your mouth like a fish, still abuzz with the news that, holy shit-you don't think you're ready for this. You're not ready for the outside world.

How many days had it been, a week since you were brought here? God, you had been here a week. After all the tension and panic and mistreatment those first couple of days, you figured you couldn't wait to leave but your chest pulled. It was just Piers. It had to be, not like you'd miss this place at all. That would be Stockholm and that would be stupid.

God, Reaper's attack really had set everything into motion, hadn't it-...?

That reminded you. “I need to see Katya too.” Pink seems taken back by your statement and crosses her arms.

“What business do you have with Katya?” You wring your hands on your knees, clenching the fabric of your jeans and lightly tugging.

“I have just a few more questions I would like to ask her. I read the report last night and would like some...things...clarified.” A phone number to get in contact with her, just in case. You realize you don't have a phone. Could you ask for a phone? You'd like her word if the tablet was bugged. Also, could you keep the tablet? Shit, you weren't ready! You mumbled, “Need to give her back her tablet.”

“Tablet?” You gesture to the device on the bed, picking it up showing it to her. “You mean Holopad; nobody calls them tablets anymore.” Holographic pad... “And I'm almost certain that you won't need to return it.” You raise a brow at the sure-fire statement.

Zarya shrugs her shoulder. “Believe me I've known her for years, she's got more than one of those things on her.” A chuckle of disbelief leaves you, if that was true than you can't help but ponder just how difficult is must have truly been for Somba to hack her. Idly, you your head at the fact that you were basically given a mini laptop. “But, Katya is in a meeting right now. She is calling Winston and arranging it so that everything is ready for us when we get there. She won't be free until the time when we must leave.”

You pull a pout, stuffing the Holopad in the waist of your pants and head over to the tray. A simple yet small orange and bowel of what looked like water downed oatmeal sat ready for consumption. You stuck to fruit, peeling the citrus and stuffing it in your mouth whole, moaning as the exotic flavor assaulted your taste buds. A shudder runs down your back at the taste.

“So, after you eat. I will take you to see Mr. Sokolov. We will talk about what is expected of you while in Winston's care.” You nod, grabbing the water bottle to take with you and give Zarya a playful smile that mushes you cheeks. You probably looked like a chipmunk and she looks disgusted at your eating habits.

You mutter, still chewing the orange. “I can eat and walk.”

“Don't talk with your mouth full.” She huffs, gesturing to your bag with a point. “There are some boots in your bag, slip those on and let's go. You do not have to take the bag with you, I'll retrieve it when it's time to leave.” She gives you a trying smile. “Just...Spend your day with Piers.” You nod, grateful for the chance and finish your breakfast as you search the bag, drawing out some black combat boots and lacing them on.

As you leave the cell Zarya almost immediately falls into what you dub work-mode. Whatever happy moment you had yesterday seemed to be set to the side as she tells you with no nonsense how you are to act once you get to your new 'home.' Any one sign that gives her reason not to trust you and she will be on you like a raptor.

“Don't think that just because you won't be in my sights twenty-four-seven does that mean you try anything.” You lift a brow, playing around with your water bottle by tossing it and catching it.

“You're not gonna be around me all the time? I thought you were coming to watch me, act as a guard to Winston?” She shakes her head, muscles clenching.

“While that is true Katya has also given me the mission to locate the woman who has threatened her, find her motives as well as catch and bring her to the UN for prosecution. I did research last night on the international database to try and find possible leads.” You catch the bottle and roll it around in your hands. “While yes, I will be on call for emergencies and checking in on you now and again, I have been assured that Winston is more than capable of dealing with you, should you go rogue.” She gives you a look over your shoulder as catch the bottle in fall. “Me and Katya both talked more last night as well...Does the name Sombra sound familiar to you?”

Yes, “No.” She sighs, leading towards a door that opens with a mechanical hiss, to the outside. You freeze upon seeing snow on the ground and the sun in the sky, it's a bright day.

The frozen powder glistens and gives a soft crunch as Zarya walks out, gesturing for you to follow. You do so with lingering hesitation, looking around in childish awe and taking in the beautiful rare sight as you feel your stomach doing flips. It's the first time you've been out in...Ever...? It feels like ages, a breath of fresh air you didn't know you needed until you had it. You carefully bend over to cup a handful of the white powder and pack it in your palm, wonder in fascination at how little you were effected by the cold.

It brought to mind how you first met Zarya and you eye the soldier as she retreats ahead towards the building adjacent from the one you had left. You're half tempted to throw the snowball at her head but knowing that probably wouldn't end well, (either fist or gun to the face) settle for turning and tossing it to the side.

And watch it go and go and-Okay, it's gone. You shyly tiptoe away to catch up with the pink soldier and clear your throat in your own defense when you see her having watched the comic scene by the door. Her eyebrow raised and smiling with a sarcastic mirth. You huff, lift your shoulders and bury your chin in your chest. Remarking playfully, “Shut up.”

She retorts back, shaking her head once with a chuckle. “I didn't say anything.”

The soldier's barracks looks exactly like what you think it would. Coming into the building you're greeted with a front desk, a clerk busily typing away. He looks up from his work and gives Zarya a nod that she respectfully returns. Whatever guards on the premise must have stayed here and you briefly wondered if that included Zarya herself.

The pink soldier led you down hallway after hallway and towards your destination you spot a cafeteria and rec rooms. Both men and woman passed you by, some in casual uniform and others preparing to go on shift. You ducked your head down at the expressions they send you. You're actions from yesterday has still left an impact on some of the cadets; most smiling, possibly rethinking their prejudice on any Omnic's they've encountered while a lot of other cadets still give you an evil and judging stare. It doesn't matter what they think now, you'll be leaving soon.

You sigh, finishing off your water while drifting away in thought. You remind yourself that you still needed to catalog what memories you had, what ones felt fuzzy and off and what ones felt too familiar and coincidental to be true. You considered using the tabl-Holopad to try and start a diary but if Sombra had been interested in you enough to try and help you during the infiltration than there was a possibility that she would be keeping an eye on you. The UN may be doing the same thing. You don't know much about electronics today, they seem very advanced and there was no telling who could or couldn't access another persons electronics by just as easily as typing a name.

Paper seemed the best option but then you would have to find one hell of a hiding spot, where any person wouldn't be able to find it. You may be being paranoid but you had no choice but to be suspicious of everyone you met. You have to trust Katya or at least pretend to because you didn't have a choice. You held on to the small hope that maybe this Winston guy was nice, a bit more sincere with you, a bit more opened but the possibility of that actually happening was very slim in your opinion. Once more in the end it was either going to be the easy way or the hard way and you prefer people fake being nice to you over strapping you back in the chair and forcing through your mind.

'They're going to do that again anyways.' You avoid shuddering at the reminder that you were just going from one prison to another. You don't know what kind of person Winston is but Katya seemed adamant that he wouldn't try to hurt you but it was still hard to believe when you only had word of mouth to go on. You had tried searching last night online for a Winston but first name alone did not get you very much, just a lot of Facebook pages and some name brand of cigarette on wikipedia.

So you had settled for looking up familiar terms and phrases: Overwatch. Overwatch Members. Omnic War. Gabriel Reyes. Jack Morrison. Two names that struck out and photo's of each. While most sites just acted as memorials to the two commanders, one site had actually been closed down due to the federal government. It sent warning flags in your head that again, maybe these memories you were remembering a danger; maybe they were hard wired into your brain for when you go rogue, for when someone somewhere flips a switch and decides they want you to kill. You had settled on a photo of Strike Commander Morrison's statue, a golden beacon of an age gone by. It was meant to be a tombstone, a tip of the head for a body that was never found and it was never found because he was still alive.

You don't know where, don't know how he survived the Swiss explosion and still don't know how you know all this but you trust your gut feeling that what you're remembering is true.

There was also something nostalgic about using the internet. You were obviously used to using online technology and had at least some understanding of how a tablet worked. Some social media websites helped refreshing whatever was in your head. Facebook was still a thing, although it looked...new, as if what you can recall is outdated. Out of date recollection. You watch as doors open and close with hisses and barely anything had an actual nob or handle to turn. You catch sight of more computer's with their screens hovering mere inches off the desk. Some keyboards were solid, some where graphic.

Everything seems so futuristic compared to the primal point of view that you seemed to be looking with. Yet, you couldn't say anything because everything in your head was still too blurry to truly compare it with. Automobiles ran on some new form of gas. Rich men and military used cars and trucks that could levitate off the ground, travel faster and safer. Bullet trains could break a sound barrier. Solar powered cities were all over the place. It wasn't all rainbows though; apparently global warming was still a thing and mother nature got a bit more creative with her artillery. A large amount of animals you remember being alive were extinct. California was about to break off and float away. Hawaii was on fire and Australia had turned into a nuclear fallout death-zone. Old laws were forgotten, new laws were passed. History was made by the winners and America had apparently seen better days.

It was like there was a big gap between what you now know and what you thought was familiar. Like you had slept through a part of history which; since you had 'turned on' a week ago made sense but it doesn't. It frustrates the hell out of you the more you think on it and the sooner you could jot some notes down the better. Until then everything just got jumbled up and slipped through your fingers. Your eyes catch and linger on a poster hanging on a board, a blue background compliments a turret with shiny metal and Russian slogan underneath. For all the technical terms and new vocabulary at least a few things were certain; war never changed, weapons were/are still being made and you're some kind of highly advanced robot out of time. Something about 'termination' whizzes by your thoughts and it's gone before you can think about why it's so funny.

You sigh out loud, nearly bumping into Zarya as your train of thought derails. “He is inside.” You look towards the door to her left, simple and plain but it actually has a knob to get in. Whatever hallway you followed her down was spotted with many of the same doors and you come to the conclusion that they were probably all bedrooms; you're in the soldier's living quarters after all. “I must go and finish my own preparations, Pier's already said he would see you off at the retrieve, so follow him when it's time.” You nod mutely. The whole day would be spent with your friend and would have to make up for all the time you would miss him. You jolt and put on an almost reflexive smile when the door opens, his familiar face making your insides twist with both joy and sadness.

“Morning Reid.” And he accepts your sudden hug like it's second nature, laughing deeply and sit his large hand on your head to ruffle your hair like a nest of feathers. “Are you excited to be leaving?” You bite your lip, ignoring Zarya's small 'see you later' as she retreats down the hall to where you assume her own room is waiting.

You shake your head in answer to Pier's concern. He hums, lifting off your head to scratch his chin. Clicking his tongue he crooks an index finger at you to enter his room. It smells of old cigars and alcohol, mixed with sandalwood and stale deodorant. There are four beds within the room, each with a chest at the end of the mattress and a numeric lock which protects the limited possessions held inside. There is a window across from the doorway with a simple table underneath and two chairs. A deck of cards sits atop the wood and an ash tray in need of dumping. A dresser sits between each bed, with a change in personality on left and right, sharing the history of two different people. Piers leads you to the top left bunk, gesturing for you to sit.

“You are nervous.” You smile at his astute observation and nod, the resulting grin causes you to feel a little better. “I figured but I had hoped you might have been a little eager to leave, given what we have all done to you.”

“Even if I leave, I don't think it's going to get any better for me. All you have done is force me into decisions I don't want to make and told me countless times that I am a danger to everyone. Leaving is not going to change that,” He nods along as you explain. Your surprised yourself at how well your worries flow from your mouth.

“I'll just be a danger in different care.” Piers was easy to talk to. Piers was the first to try and trust you. Piers felt familiar, not in a sense that you knew him before but that you knew someone like him; someone just as easy to talk to and open up around with no worry of being judged. You feel your heart flutter as he places his hand on your shoulder and gives you a light but warm shake, meant to be of encouragement. You look up at him with wide and doubting eyes, pleading for some kind of support.

You receive a modest smile, one that seems a little forced but looks like it's more of personal uncertainly than distrust. “Reider...I do not honestly know how to cheer you up but...may I try something?” You quickly agree, hoping that whatever he'd suggest would get rid of the nerves.

He trudges over to his trunk, big boots clopping on the linoleum floor. As he dials his combination into the lock you look over to the dresser beside you and eye the trinkets and other miscellaneous things. A bottle of scotch, a lighter, loose change and bullets. You spy a set of dog tags hanging from a thumb tack in the wall and smile at his stamped name.

“Here...” You turn and take the slip of paper Piers hands to you and look over the loose leaf with curiosity. Two people stand in the snow in front of a frozen lake. A mother hugs her daughter by the shoulders and smiles at the camera with a kind of sincerity that is only told of in fairy tales. Her auburn brown hair falls over her shoulders in bouncing curls and her pale skin accents spattered freckles that fleck over her nose and cheeks. Pink rosacea gives her a permanent blush and rosy appearance. Her blue eyes are as soft as the snow crunched under her boots.

The child in the photo, you recall Pier's saying she was four. You can tell she is a bit of a thin girl, still growing underneath the large white fur coat wrapped around her. She inherited her mothers puffy red cheeks and her fathers deep soul searching eyes. Her smile glistens like frozen morning icicles and her childish wonder is innocent to the world's cruelty. Together with her mother, the two in the photo is everything a family should be; loving and filled with the warmth of a thousand freshly baked cookies. You can practically smell the chocolate chips as they bake in the imaginary oven.

Gingerly handling the photo you rub your thumb against the little girls face and smile, handing Pier's back the treasure. “They're both beautiful.” He thanks you and sits down beside you on the bed, the force of which causes you to bounce a little.

“Let me explain something to you, Reider.” You pause, smile slowly slipping away at his suddenly forlorn tone. “Most Omnics are made in the Omnium factory, they have no actual family...The closest thing they have to a birth mark is some code stamped on them by a manufacturing belt...But being as you look so human...and seem so human I can't help but wonder if someone personally made you, maybe a scientist or Omnictologist...”

You wring your hands together, as he gives you a curious look. “What do you think? You don't remember anything right? Do you think maybe somebody put you together, maybe you have some kind of family?” Searching through the cloudy abyss in your head for anything. You know the answer to this; yes. You know somewhere you have a family, you feel an unseen connection between you and a mother or father, perhaps a brother or sister, wife or husband. There is someone out there, you know it but there is no faces to be attached to this person, no solidity. You can recall knowing the feeling of waking up to someone there even in just spirit...

You look Piers over up and down, eyes giving away your answer. He shares you a soft sigh in pity and once more shows you the picture, pointing out the faces, first to the older woman. “My wife; Natalia. Don't let her sweet looks fool you, that woman will wrestle a Narwhal if it means getting her way.” You gaff in amusement at his honest tone of voice, he laughs along with you. Settling down he glides his finger over to the girl in the picture, a shine of fatherly love in his eyes. “My daughter; Sasha.”

He holds the photo close to his chest and sighs deeply. “She is a wild girl so open minded to the world and others.” He shakes his head.“Often times, her acceptance of others puts her against the older kids, people who hate her for playing with the outcasts and sneer and pick on her for her over-energetic nature...They didn't like that she just...can't seem to hate anyone. I know she is young but she is so smart and bright.”

He shuffles forward with his shoulders resting on his knees, looking on ahead and caught up in the days of the past. “She came home crying after school one day, asking me, 'Papa, why is it that people have to hate others just because they're not like them?' It broke my heart, hearing such an honest question. Really put things in mind that people are far to quick to hate others. We would walk down the streets and see civilian Omnics and she would always smile and greet them, share with anyone her happiness. Such an empathetic young girl.” He shares with you a look, his eyes harden.

“You remind me of her...” You raise a brow, looking back at the girl in the photo in doubt. “Human or not, when you cried I just...I couldn't bring myself to hate you...I see too much of her in you. 'It's not fair, I didn't do anything than be myself.'” He sighed, rubbing his left shoulder with a grimace, probably stressed and sore. “Despite all the bad things we did to you, you never once tried to strike us...Ruin a room, yeah but you didn't hurt us. You defined even 'human' nature, despite how human you look. You didn't fight back.”

You look down meekly, 'Didn't have much of a choice.' You think.

The man almost seemed to read your mind, “Yeah, I know you didn't have much of a choice but—Still.” You bite your lip, casually shaking your head without feeling. You lean into the man when he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close, you look back to the picture in his hand. “You're more humane than us humans, Reider...” He gaffs and stands, going over to his dresser and picking up the dog tags, you deftly catch them as he tossed them your way.

In surprise you flip the metal over in your hand, tracing over the Russian indention's that would be Pier's name, possibly his blood type. You don't know what all is on it but give him a smile and thank him for the heartfelt gift, can't help in asking. “Why?”

He shrugs, returning to his chest and tucks away the photo. “You seem prone to fits of mania and panic but you calm down whenever I get involved. You admit to liking me, yes?” You nod without hesitation and earn his smile of approval. “Well, there you go. I'm afraid I won't be around to help you calm down anymore, so I'm giving you a little piece of me. I hope that whenever you feel overwhelmed, it will help calm you.” And he digs in his chest some more before settling it closed, clicking the lock.

It dawns on you that there was another thing you could do to help your nerves in the future. You grab the tab-Holopad from your waistband and pull it out, turning the thing on and handing it to him. His eyes light up and he laughs.

“Oh yes!” And he quickly takes the device, getting the same idea as you. “We can keep in touch. Where'd you get this?” He asks, flicking through the apps.

“Katya.” You say and slip on the dog tags over your head, fiddling with them as they click at your chest. A soft and certain smile settles on your face and you feel lighter, like a heavy weight has been removed from your shoulders. You take the device as Pier's hands it back, a new document open with information; an e-mail and a phone number. You purse your lips as a seed of worry takes root.

“I don't know if this Winston guy will let me keep it though.” You sigh, turning off the device and tuck it away. Piers gives a small shake of his head with a chuckle of doubt.

“You make him out to be a bad guy?” You nod, thinking it was kind of obvious. “Don't.” His urgent command has you straighten out your shoulder and snark.

“Well, yes sir.” You huff, getting a small playful knock on the head.

“I mean, as a member of Overwatch. He is a respectable man. Think of it this way, can a man who helped save the world truly be a bad person?” You shrug, stating without pause.

“He's going to plug me back up.” Instantly his arm is back around you and he snaps softly.

“No! No, Reider. He's...He's...” You bite your lip, retching yourself out of his hold and stand, forcing your hands in your pockets.

“You don't know that he won't.”

“And you do not know that he will.” You stiffen at his serious tone, looking over your shoulder at his firm set eyes and squared shoulders. He reaches out and you take his hand, looking down ashamed as he swipes his thumb over yours. “Just...don't go assuming the worst Reider, have some hope...Yes?” You bite your lip and take a deep breath.

“I'll try.” You lie.

He takes you by car, following tracks in the snow to an off grounds part of the facility. It's a large garage area atop a hill and overlooking a strip of concrete that's been carefully cleared of snow and possibly sprayed with deicer. While the car ride was silent, the atmosphere was comfortable and peacefully. Until you had to get out of the car and was bombarded by the sound of jet engines and roaring turbines.

The engine of the plane was almost deafening as it echoed through the garage. Soldier's stood aside, workers moved boxes, you take a deep breath. You stare at the large...jet? on the runway. It definitely wasn't anything you can remember seeing before. You had a picture of a plane in mind, that was not a plane.

It was large, bulky, white. The nose of the 'plane' was orange and you can vaguely recall there be stairs needed to enter a plane because it was so high up from the ground but this machine was actually making contact with the ground. No stairs needed, the entire back of the vessel was a wide open door.

Piers puts a hand on your shoulder, breaking you from shock and gives you a firm shake of confidence sharing with you, a smile. “You have my information, my number. If ever you need anything, you call me, you write to me, you talk to me.” You force a smile, try to look happy while holding back sniffles.

He once more ruffles your hair. “If it weren't for confidentiality I would tell Sasha that she has a new cousin.” The gesture is heartrending and has the waterworks starting down your face. He coos wrapping you in what was possibly the worlds best bear hug and affectionately butts his head against yours.

“Be good, Reider. I will hear from you soon?” You nod, lip quivering.

“Yeah.” You ignore how your voice breaks and turn from him, wiping your face with your sleeve as you try not to look back. Your hand comes up and grabs at the gifted dog tags, carefully smoothing your thumb against the bare side of one, lest you wear down the indention's to nothing. Zarya waves at you from ahead, Katya beside her with a bag at her feet. As you approach, she stoops down and picks up the duffle, handing it to you with a smile.

“Are you ready?” You force yourself to nod, swallowing down the knot forming in your throat. “I know one set of clothes won't get you very far. I acquired another outfit, simple shirt and jeans of course and a little something extra.” You raise a brow as you take the bag, eyeing the case that she holds in her hand. Gesturing it towards you she clicks the brief open and bares the contents.

“Don't get too excited, it's for show only.” Her own eyes widen when she is suddenly pushed back, almost knocked off her feet as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Her laughter sounds real, her own cheeks flushing as she pats you on the shoulder albeit a bit awkwardly to try settle you down. “Goodness, now what did I just say?” You chuckle and shake your head, withdrawing and taking the case from her to study the weapon.

Hellfire had been polished, the scuffs it had received during the fighting had been worked away and the frame gleamed in the artificial light. It looked to have been cleaned, someone took it apart and washed away all the grime on each separate piece. You don't know who did it but you were thankful. Giving Katya a look in her eyes you shake your head, denying her excuse that it wasn't a big deal. It was. Zarya puffs her chest from beside the woman, giving you a shake of her head at your almost childish response to the gift. She didn't understand. Katya had once more shown you a level of trust you know to be difficult for her.

“She just said it can't be used. We've removed the firing pin. It's just for decoration now, you understand? You're situation is still too unstable for us to actually give you a live weapon.” You nod, closing the case and holding it to your chest. It really didn't matter whether you could use it or not, you hadn't planned to, you just wanted a kind of souvenir. Like something you would read on a shirt 'I went up against Reaper and all I got was this gun.' Something inside of you was excited, ~~over excited~~ about this. You know there is more to it than what you're thinking but it really didn't matter what that was. You were just happy that they let you keep it.

“Ello there, luvs!”

Your attention is drawn behind Katya's shoulder, peeking over with concern.

She carries with her a spring breeze that sends her white scarf sailing after her as she approaches. Her brunette bangs are pulled back by a pair of aviator goggles and you're floored by just how bright her eyes are; amber in color reflect the honey glow that radiates from her person. Freckled cheeks dimple as she greets Katya with the brightest smile you've ever seen and takes hands with the company president to give a single but firm shake before changing her posture. Standing straight, shoulders squaring and a fingertip that grazes her eyebrow in a salute. She introduces herself with a tone that's business formal.

“Lena Oxton of Overwatch Air and Field Force, at your service, mum.”

Katya nods, “A pleasure, Lena. No need to be so formal, we talked over the phone with Winston not a few hours ago.” The girl released her hand, rubbing the back of her neck with a deflated sense of professionalism.

“Right, sorry Mrs. Katya. Force o' habit.” She giggles, tugging at a stray lock of hair as she clears her throat. The long haired business woman gave a nod of her head, gesturing to the weightlifter beside her.

“As you probably know, this is-” You watch as Zarya offers her own hand to shake and hold back your snort as it is quickly swooped up by Lena; beaming brightly. Her continuous shaking causes the woman to give an exasperated but playful sigh as the girl chatters with excitement.

“Aleksandra Zaryanova, my gosh, it's so amazing to meet you in person.” Something about her peppy personality reminded you of colorful canaries, chipping tits, and songbirds. “How you put your career on hold to help your people is just so brave and noble.” You smile at Zarya's, her eyes locking with yours in a plea that you ignore with a smirk, feeling evil.

Katya interrupts, “Just as a reminder to relay to Winston, I fully supports and will stand with Overwatch if ever he gives the call to reforming...” Lena gives Zarya mercy, nodding her head and leans back on one foot.

“And we are very grateful for that Mrs. Katya but...Well, it's still up in the air. You as an individual may support us on your own but the UN still peeps in once in a while as a whole to make sure nothing is going on. Really...” She leans in close, gesturing the woman to do the same, as if to share a secret. “We shouldn't be here talking to each other at all.” Katya clears her throat as if to stave on the amusement of Lena's almost carefree nature and at last turns the attention to you.

Still somewhat hiding behind her back, she brings you forward with a small side step. “Now then, the reason you're here.” She sets her hands on your shoulder, firmly keeping you in place as you try to step back. “Reider, say hello.” You frown at the slight material command of voice.

Lena's eyes lock onto you, a cat like smile on her face. You can't help but gulp as the pilot has no problem stepping closer to approach you. You put on your best pretend smile.

“H-Hi.” And jump when she quickly extends her hand. A grin on her face.

“Happy to meet ya, luv.” You blink in shock, still for a moment before hesitantly reaching out to return the gesture. “You must be the Missing Link everyone's going on about. Winston and Athena been keeping me up all night talking about you. Omnic or not, maybe something more; we're gonna try and help at figuring out what's going on with you, ok?” You give a nervous laugh and retreat into your shell on instinct. 'It's fine,' you tell yourself. 'This is Tracer, she won't judge you.'

You watch, feeling slightly betrayed to be left on your own, as Katya and Zarya moved away to discuss something among themselves. While you could have honed in to eavesdrop on their conversation Lena keeps your attention singularly on her with her chipper aura and really, what was the point. You were no longer in Katya's hands if you were going to suck up and be concerned about what anyone was talking about or thinking about it would be this girl and Winston.

“Even though...I may turn out to be some sort of bad guy?” Lena shakes her head, setting her hands on her hips and gives you a comforting smile.

“Hey, let's not worry about the what if's alright?” You raise a brow in suspended disbelief as she goes on. “I've been told of your situation and if you say you don't remember anything, that you're not planning anything malicious or intend to hound us in our sleep, I believe you.” She giggles, of course you're surprised. “I understand, not used to a lot of someones on your side? Russia's not the best place for an amnesiac Omnic, givin' what they're going through.” You let your shoulders drop, her nicety is genuine and eyes are so warm, you exhale exhaustion as the conversation hangs.

“But?”

Lena shakes her head, knowing you expect a down side. “But you helped them fight off Reaper! Even I would have hesitated to take him alone. He's bad business you know, been poppin' up all over the place, even we're keeping our eye on him and we're not even back official yet!” She bites her lip as she see's doubt in your eyes. “I really, really don't think you're a bad person.” You scoff in disbelief, not figuring her as sincere.

“Just because I saved a few people?”

“Because you cared enough to save people.” You sigh, dropping your shoulders defeat and tilt your head to the side in an effort to pop.

“The big guys in charge of things think that you've got something important in your head that may concern why the Omnium is acting up again. Why, maybe even the whole world is going to hell. While I'm sure they want to keep you for themselves, they don't have the kind of tech to really find out anything about you.” You nod along and she cheers. Tone shifting from serious to once again bright.

“Winston back at home is wicked with these kinds of things and he's gonna take a look at ya.” You wince, running a hand over the back of your neck and dip your index finger into the port you know is there, figuring...It can't hurt to ask, so you try to keep yourself from panicking preemptively and summon your courage.

“Is he gonna plug me back up?” She lifts a brow, hands settling on her hips.

“What do you mean?” You shuffle a bit, looking down and withdrawing, situating the case holding Hellfire in the crook of your arm, you try to keep her eyes off your shaking hands.

“Get in my head, dig around my brain. Hook my up to some big computer and open me up.” The hum of the plane engine vibrates in your ears, singing a melody all it's own. It's distracting from Lena as she sets her hands on your shoulders as if to comfort you but right now, you feel too small, you want to push her away and go curl back up in your cell. It's your own fault, you made yourself probably seem like this weak and terrified confused thing to her and you were but you didn't want some sugar coated excuse; you wanted a yes or no.

Is this gonna hurt?

“I can't promise you that what Winston will do won't hurt. From the files these scientists sent us there is still a lot about you we don't know.” You give a short nod and she forces a smile back to her face, a ray of sun, a shine of hope. “But I can promise you this. Winston is waaay to much of a soft fuzzball to try and hurt you intentionally. I mean, the guy's more likely to get himself hurt with all the monkey-ing around he does.” She's laughing, as if she's told a joke but you don't get it. At the sight of that she clears her throat awkwardly and gives you once last smile. “It's gonna be okay.”

Short lived frustration bat away, it feels right to believe her, this is Tracer...

“By the way, what's you're name?”

Again with this question, you give a cheeky laugh and look towards the heavens. “Reider...That's what I was told but feel free to call me Reid if you like.” Lena gave out a pleased smile.

“Well, that sounds good, Reid. So, how about we hop aboard the ship and get you and Zarya settled in your new home?” You smile at the thought of them actually welcoming you with open arms. Lena's friendly bubbliness was such a huge shift from how you had first met the 'Russians.' Previous hostility aside, you give her a nod and let her lead you forward towards the plane. “Oh right!” You raise a brow, more to add. She playfully sticks her tongue out as a derp, blowing a little raspberry.

“Gotta tell Mrs. Katya and Zarya first, don't I?” You nod and jerk back as the young woman suddenly disappears in a neon blue flash, popping back into assistance over by the two woman talking among themselves. You see them both nod at Lena's appearance, whatever she says, probably that shew as ready for take off. Still in a daze from the surprise disappear and reappear magic act you jerk once more as Lena again vanishes in blue particles and reappears, now beside you with hand on your shoulder and pulling you along.

“Alright! Let's go!”

You linger hesitantly at the doorway into the plane, glancing back to see Piers still standing where you had left him, he gives you a wave that you return and look to Katya standing a little ways of the entrance. “I guess...Thanks for taking care of me?” Or trying to, thanks for not dicing me? Thanks for turning out better than expected. She must have seen your troubled attempt at expressing the good-est of goodbyes and settles it with a nod of her head.

“I'll be in contact, Reider. You just worry about behaving and try stay out of trouble.” Try not to cause problems. Don't resist. Be good. It sounded better when Peir's said it. You turn and walk into the cabin and instantly floored with...You don't know what you were expecting exactly but it certainly wasn't the open bar in the corner of the room.

Tracer had already entered ahead of you and was bounding up a set of stairs and around a wall of servers. It most likely led to the bridge. Which meant you were in the loading bay? Main floor? This ship had stairs in it, this ship had more than one floor in it. You look around in wonder and confusion as you turn in place, bags still in hand with no idea where to put them. There was a giant table in the middle of the room with a laid out map of the world, buttons and flashing lights along the legs of said table, you don't know what they're for. You don't know what half of the unrecognizable stuff in the room is for. Most of the walls had some kind of button or switch on it.

On either side of the table is some seats. Parachutes, first aid kits, and emergency oxygen tanks are fitted to hooks on the walls, strapped in with velcro to keep from toppling over in turbulence. On the opposite side of the main floor, there is a recreational table, surface bare save for a screwed in desk light. You peer over to the open bar in the corner of the room and spy a coffee machine, notice the lack of stock in liquor and...it's just funny that there's literally a bar in the plane and...-was that a _basketball hoop_?

Zarya nudges you from behind, the loading door sliding closed with a steaming hiss behind her. As she roams the cabin you get a sense that she must have been in planes like this before. She sees you in need and waiting directions for what to do, where to go and throws her shoulder towards some of the open seats. You follow her example and set your things in the space under the chair and look around. There are windows, just above your seat and if you stood on the cushions you would be able to see out of them...Not that you were going to do that: you were an adult.

You slip your table- _HOLOPAD_ out from the band of your jeans and look it over, eyes glued on Pier's information as it comes up on screen. You open your e-mail and pin him into your contacts, can planes have wifi? This plane has wifi. A buzz comes on from overhead and Lena's voice rings out clear and true.

“Alright, you two. Go on and buckle in, I'll take us off.” You quickly mirror Zarya as she takes the belts on the seat and fits them over her, hoping you did it right. And you were off, the aircraft giving a little shake and stirring the glasses in the bar cabinet, you get that weird feeling of being in a moving elevator and quickly grab the tags around your neck.

A fucking basketball goes bouncing by in the resulting turbulence, then it all settles.

“This shouldn't take us but a few hours before we arrive.” A few hours.

“How fast are we going?” You ask, looking over at Zarya and seeing her slouched back with her arms crossed, eyes closed and chin buried in her chest. Was...Was she asleep? How did she manage to fall asleep so fast? You shake your head and sigh out loud, turning your attention back to your tablet and pulling open a new page in your documents, contemplating on whether or not to start that 'journal.'

You were two hours in before coming to an up to date close. Turning off the device and taking a note from Zarya, settle back in your seat for a minor power outage.

“Alright then luvs, if you'll look out your window to your left you will see Watchpoint Gibraltar atop her rock.” You open your eyes to see the color of the room had changed, well no. The color outside had changed, what time was it? Zarya shuffles in her seat and stretches casually at the announcement, slipping back into the real world with little to no problem. You hurriedly unfasten your seat belt and turn in your seat. Forget being an adult, you stand on the chair to peak out through the window above. Your mouth drops open as the clouds part, past the wings you can see your destination.

It's a very small, narrow peninsula, overlooking the sea like a silent earthen guardian. A spectacular rock monolith dominates the landscape. Similar in shape to an arrowhead and reaching what may be over 1,000 feet. The mountain itself stretched for miles, the most significant landmark. Nesting at its foot, crammed at the base of the rock, with golden sand beaches was a densely populated city of a ship trade based economy. Although you cannot see any rivers, you spy canals of bright water crawling from the ocean and throughout the town like ivy. A wide and long airstrip of gray concrete stretched to the side of the landmass, a border for the town itself as it separated the scenic sight from the creeping neighborhood of red roofs and calderas on the other side. You spy what could be a reef in the waters ahead of it, loud colors exclaiming under the waters.

You eyed the mountain, how the great giant seemed so preserved in comparison to the city that nested past the wilds of its forests. The lush vegetation that slide down to meet the town was opposite sided with cliffs and cut rock, man made in appearance you didn't think it was natural. Climbing the surface was scaffolding that lead up and up and further up still. There was a winding road through the thicket of tree's, that took people to the very top were a satellite tower blinked in greeting.

Laid atop the rock, fitting just right in the green, was a towering structure with a blue roof. A large satellite dish in the yard and slowly turning. A strange blue glow surrounds the place and you can't help but wonder just what kind of future tech is causing it. The facility stretched the cliff side, traveling down in bridge like networks and jut from the rock with steel support and foundation. It all looked to be interconnected and an even greater building sat below the cliff, pipes connecting to the ocean, wheels spinning water and tanks holding what could be thousands of gallons of sea. The possibility of it being a water fueled power plant made you giddy, wondering the technicalities of the facility. You looked back to the blue roofed building and take a deep breath, coming to the conclusion that since it looked to be the most important piece to the settings, it may be your destination.

Lena comments over the announcer, “Overwatch has its own airspace here for when we needed to deploy quickly for missions and get any injured soldiers to the medical bay on emergency. The Gibraltar International Airport is about 10 kilometers north of where we're landing and we have a much more larger air base there that we had once used for mass transport.”

“Like, what kind of mass transport?” Food, supplies? Was the ships their main method of trade or was it by air? There was apparently a speaker for her to hear you as she actually responds to your question.

“Like...Well, like for war...” You close your mouth at her slight drop in tone, looking back out the window and practically mushing your face against the glass. Your breath fogs the service as you awe loudly, all but glittering with wonder. “If you aren't already, strap back in. We'll be landing shortly.” You pretend not to hear her, looking down at the any like people you can make out on the busy streets, going about their lives. Colorful awnings and umbrella's decorate the beach, sailors help anchor a ship at the docks.

Zarya links her thumb with the very back belt loop of your pants and pulls, forcing you to fall and sit back down. Under her maternal gaze, you strap in with a pout, leg bouncing in pent up energy as your previous worry was second hand to your road-trip wonder and urge to explore.

Lena had not been kidding about private airspace, the runway was practically empty as you left the plane, save for a few good men who greeted Lena and shook her hand. You stand beside Zarya and take in the crisp Mediterranean breeze honing in to the sounds of animal calls in the distance. They sounded like monkeys and you ask Lena on the car ride to the base about the local wildlife.

“There is a nature preserve on the west side of the rock. There's also some other tourist attractions and a cable car that runs up from the city. Oh and monkey, lots of monkeys.” Zarya looks up from her reflection in the rear view mirror.

“Monkeys?”

“Barbary Macaques. They used to just stick to Upper Rock but since their population increased in 2060, they spread through most of the jungle. A small group actually lives near the Watchpoint and Winston kinda likes them so don't be surprised if you see some on the lawn.” And on the lawn they were, brown little fuzzballs with curious eyes. You stare at them through the window as the car pulls up to the glowing blue gate, lasers blocking the way between entering and leaving the facility. You guess it to be some kind of motion trigger alarm or maybe melting energy that would cut someone in half if they crossed. It was was one of the two as Lena rolls down the window and reaches for a podium just to the side of the doorway and presses a button. A small ding sounds from over the car engine and the screen lights up.

“Hey Athena, I'm here. Can you open up for us, please?”

Athena? You look at the screen and memorize the logo the fades onto the black window; an 'A' shape in light blue color, bold and simple font underneath typed 'Athena.'

“Welcome home, Agent Tracer.” Feminine in softness, Indian in ethnic tone. There is no face to the voice but hearing it/her sends shock waves through your mind and has you reeling back with disturbed paranoia.

Athena; Athena plays an important roll. A narrator of sorts, announcer? Artificial Intelligence. Your eyes close and eyebrows bunch in tight nit confusion as you try to sort out and properly get a grasp of the scrambled jumble in your brain. You stifle a whimper of frustration and anguish as the haze once more returns, too thick to see through and leaving you with only half of the puzzle solved.

Something is going to happen soon but feel unsure. You can't decide whether to trust this sensation or not. You have no reason too, no explanation why. At least during Reaper's attack on Volskaya Industry you had a bit more solid foundation to anchor the feeling. You knew, you just knew it was going to happen.

God, you hated this. You hated feeling so unsure. You feel like you should be able to trust yourself but you just can't.

The gate lights flicker, plasma wavering before it's gone and Lena pulls past, following the road to a garage that's motion sensor opens the door for her to pull in. As you get out of the car the garage closes behind you. You take in the area with a raised brow. It's a very wide open space, bit enough to fit at least five more vehicles. You eye an engine that hangs from the ceiling in a chain lift, following the contraption to a yellow switch and stuff your hands in your pockets to keep your suddenly sticky fingers from touching things you most definitely shouldn't. As Lena heads for the stairs with Zarya on her tail and you slowly following behind you get distracted by all the parts and the smell of old gasoline. You spy a red tool chest and old lunchbox shaped containers, tools and gas-canisters on steal tables made into the walls. You wander to a dirty sheet, covering some kind of machine and fight back the overwhelming urge to whip it off like a magician and reveal whatever was underneath. You slip a single finger under the fabric and try to tug it up for a peek.

“Reider!” Quickly you drop your hand, snapping your attention to the weight lifter and pretend you weren't just caught with your hand in the cookie jar. She stands at the top of the steel staircase to the door leading further in, her arms crossing and Lena beside her looking on at you with a giggle. You quickly lop over to catch up, excusing yourself preemptively under Zarya's raised brow raising and showing your empty hands in surrender.

“I didn't touch anything!” Uh huh, sure you didn't and she jerks her head for you to walk in front of her. Probably to keep you from getting further distracted.

Despite how grand the place seemed, hallways decorated with banners and clean white linoleum floor, overhead lights with little to no buzz and occasional potted plant, the place felt...Empty. You can imagine a day were it would have been full of busy people, laughing faces and friendly persons. Lena looks nostalgic as she leads you down the halls, a soft but sad smile on her face, you see she swallowing kind of hard. Is it difficult for her to be here?

You don't ask, instead try to keep your slowly increasing heart rate steady as with each door you pass your previous worries and anxieties return with vengeance. Each room you pass has you twitching and wondering 'it it that one?' 'Is he in there?' 'Maybe the next one.' Which of these multiple hallways will the one your gurney is pulled through? Which room will hold your operation to be carried out? Where is the chair? Where's the chair?

You thumb Pier's tags with uncertainty.

The new location had been doing so well to keep you distracted from your paranoid assumptions but now that you roamed an almost deserted facility, where your footsteps echoed and your back was covered by a heavy lifting soldier-still under mission, you feel shivers start to rumble through you as the panicked anticipation sets in.

Lena stops at a double door and smiles at you over her shoulder. “Okay luv's, this is Winston's work space. Once you're introduced we'll head out and get you settled into your rooms.”

The both of you nod as Lena barges through the entrance. Your worry is slightly eased as she calls through the room, hand cupping around her mouth to help increase her already loud volume.

“Oh Winston! Where are you, ya big peanut butter lovin' goofball?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up a few things. Rosacea is a skin condition in the face and cheeks causing redness, swelling and visible blood vessels, this gives the person a permanent blush. There are four types of rosacea a person can have, one causing the skin to thicken and have a bumpy texture, another causing acne-like breakouts and one that can effect the eyes. Piers wife has erythematotelangiectatic rosacea, which is just a long and fancy word for saying that she had redness, flushing, and visible blood vessels in her cheeks. If you yourself have rosacea cool, so does my mom, Bill Clinton and Princess Diana.
> 
> I don't know if it's a common enough term used; but 'sticky fingers' infers that a person has a tendency to steal/touch/grab. In Reider's case, she needs to keep her sticky fingers in her pockets, lest she compulsively flips a switch or touches something that accidentally sets something else on fire.
> 
> Also, for those of you trying to imagine what Pier's looks like. Just picture the most dad-liest, bearded Russian papa you can and make him holding a baby duckling. There you go, that's Piers.
> 
> This chapter is the longest so far, at 23 pages in Office and good god just shy of 15,000 words. I hope this tides you over as I work on the next one. Yay! We met Lena! I hope you may have noticed something Reider hadn't. Remember, Reider's memories are still really finicky, and what she does and doesn't know it still coming and going. Some of this stuff is second nature to her handsome of it is just barred off from her unless something can bring it to the surface, such as looking at Jack Morrison's statue. Why does she act as if she doesn't know who Winston is, when clearly she should? Well, that's cause she doesn't know she knows who Winston is. Just clearly that up for some new Readers and Anon's who mentioned how I had only called Amelie as Windowmaker is chapter 6.
> 
> Reider still doesn't have the big picture, Reider may be forgetting things as she remembers them, that's why I am so adamant on her having a journal to keep track of herself and what she knows/doesn't know.
> 
> That and it may or may not play a key part in instigating some future angst.
> 
> http://worldsfool.tumblr.com/post/162515326691/name-reider-reader-age-can-physically-be
> 
> For those who don't know. I have finally, FINALLY, posted the Reider reference sheet on my Tumblr of what Reider looks like without her skin. The quality may be crap but I spend hours on MS Paint, please, be proud of me. Once more, if anyone would like to share some fanart with me, please. I encourage it.
> 
> Like this wonderful persona right here; thank you Hourglass!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BWEgkKyBNQ6/ 
> 
> You don't have to but good golly gosh does it give me a case of the honeyglows. I can't tell you when the next update will be. Plot is a difficult thing to write and with this long chapter I need to catch my breath a bit. I also need to find out why my laptop suddenly isn't charging. Keep reading folks!


	9. Notice

Heeeeeeeeey guuuuuuuys.

Been a while, huh? I know a lot of you have been spying on this story and looking for an update and, let's be honest, it's still a long while yet before you get one.

This has not been a good year. Anyone in America can confirm that. I am still in school, I am underpaid, I am with a loving family who supports me but damn if I'm not tired and embarrassed for asking for money from them, just pay my damn phone bill and for gas. Spring Semester starts on the 8th, I hope to have a better job by then, and I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed sometime in Feburary. What fun.

But that's not why you're reading this.

I will be frank, I have lost some motivation to work on this story. I will open the document but there is simply nothing there. I do have notes upon notes of plot that I simply need to patch together and while I do this sometimes during my free hours, it will be a while before I am able to put together enough to have a substantial chapter.

AND THEN Overwatch comes out with a comic of Zarya and what she's been doing since her little meeting with Katya. This is good and bad.

Good because I wrote myself into a bit of a hole and can open up a lot more with Reider and her interactions with Overwatch. Bad because I want this story to be as close to canon as possible in terms of events. I have been going back and re-reading and seeing a lot of things I could have done better. I can make subtle adjustments in the chapters themselves or...I could take it down and start from scratch again.

Can you guess which option I'm going with?

Don't worry, I won't be pulling it off for a while yet. I am going to write more before then. I have art projects and school work to worry about still, so this story will remain up until I can get my head out of my ass. Depression doesn't help either.

Thank you for bearing with me everyone, the wait is not over yet.


End file.
